The Chicken Chain

by

Bonanarchists

Joe grasped the unsanded boards with his fingernails as he forced himself to
climb higher and still higher. He only allowed himself to look
forward...afraid that the moment he looked behind him, he would see the
unthinkable. The world seemed to swirl in his periphery as his vision was
clouded by the sweat dripping in his eyes from his damp curls. He stopped
for a moment, resting his head on his hands and moaning aloud.

There was no one to hear him...he was alone in this struggle...alone and
afraid. Lifting his head up and squinting into the harsh glare of the noon
sun, he placed another hand forward and pulled himself up several more
inches. His feet slipped and he gasped as he struggled to find a toe hold in
the old boards. Secure again against the boards, his naked upper torso
gleaming with sweat...he pressed on.

Finally, his hand came to rest on the surface that he both searched for and
dreaded.
The hen house floor. As his fingers came to rest just inside the threshold,
he heard the dreaded sound.

SQUAWK!

SQUAWK!

He ducked his head beneath his hands as the huge rabid chicken leapt upon his
head and began to peck at his curls.

SQUAWK!

"NOOOO..." Joe screamed out in terror...finally finding his voice. His feet
struggled to keep their stay on the henhouse ramp. His body trembled from
both fear and pain.

"NOOOOOOOO!!!" His voice raised several octaves as he swatted at the
gigantic, ferocious chicken. "KEEP AWAY FROM ME!!!"

Tears came as he felt himself falling...falling. His fingers slipped and for
just a second, he was spiraling through the air towards the dirt 3 feet below
him. Just before he landed , he jerked upwards one more time....screaming...

"NOOOOOOO..."

"Joe...." Adam held a light just inside the darkened room. He stared at his
brother who was sitting upright in bed...pale, naked and panting.
"Joe...JOE!"

Joe jerked his head toward the room and only then, began to wake up. He
rubbed a hand down his face and groaned softly at the realization that he had
been besieged once more by the chicken nightmare.

Adam held the lantern up so that he could see his brother. He shook his head
from side to side. "Was it the chicken again, Joe?"

"I...I....don't remember...." Joe lied. How could he tell his brother that
the attack chicken had come for him again that night. How could he
communicate his fear...a fear he scarcely understood to his family. The
chicken terrified him...but...why?

"Go back to sleep, Joe...." Adam instructed cooly as he began to back out of
the room. "Try counting...." Adam stopped himself before he uttered the
word ....sheep. He knew that it was a little too soon for him to be suggesting anything
openly to his family regarding sheep. He needed to wait a little longer for
the memories to fade some. "Umm...Joe...try counting..um...pigs..."

Joe looked at his brother curiously as he watched his door shut.

"Pigs...." Joe climbed out of bed..the moonlight from his window reflecting
on his sweaty naked body. He plopped into the chair at his bedside and
propped his feet up on the mattress.

"1...2....3...."

by deer

Joe walked down the stairs slowly, trying not to disturb the early morning
quiet of the house. He slowly crossed the room to the bureau by the front
door, and began to buckle his gunbelt around his hips. His thoughts were
elsewhere. He didn't hear his father come up behind him.

"Good morning," said Ben in a quiet voice.

Joe froze. He turned. "Hi Pa," he said tentatively. "I didn't know you were
up yet."

"What are you doing up so early," asked Ben with arched eyebrows.

Joe turned back and began fiddling with the clasp of his gunbelt. "Just
thought I go help Adam at the railhead," he said.

"Seems to me Adam has plenty of help," commented Ben.

Joe turned to his father. "Please, Pa, just let me go."

"Why?" demanded Ben. "Do you think running away will solve your
problem?"

"I don't have a problem," said Joe turning away.

"No problem?" said Ben. "You've been having nightmares, you've been
avoiding me, and yesterday when Hop Sing served fried chicken for
dinner, you ran screaming from the table, yelling "No, not cousin Fred!"

"Pa, just let me handle things!" said Joe in a desperate voice. "If I go
away for awhile, I'm sure I can sort this out."

"Where would you go?" said Ben. "St. Louis, San Francisco, Cincinnati?"

"No, not Cincinnati," mumbled Joe, his eyes wide with terror. "Those flying
pigs, you know."

"Joseph, you have to get over your fear of flying things," said Ben in a
stern voice. "Just because that pigeon landed in your hair...."

"DON'T!" cried Joe, his eyes wide with terror. He looked away. "I can handle
this, Pa. Really. I can."

"I think you need to face your problem, Joe," suggested Ben.

"I don't know what my problem is," said Joe, his face full of misery.

"Joseph, is it you don't know what your problem is or is it that you're
afraid to face it?" asked Ben.

Joe looked at his father, his face a mixture of anger and fear. Without a
word, he turned and walked out of the house.

Joe crossed the yard to the barn, his mind in turmoil. At the same time, his
eyes darted back and forth, looking for feathers, tracks or other tell-tail
sign of the chicken. He sighed with relief when he got to the barn. Joe quickly
opened the door and went in.

Joe went to the stall where Cochise was waiting patiently. He reached for
the blanket on the stall wall. His back was to the front of the barn. Suddenly,
Joe heard the wind blow the barn door shut. The noise startled him. Then he
heard a noise that frightened him, terrified him.

"SQUAWK"

by Susan

Joe stood facing Cochise afraid to turn around. Maybe it was his
imagination. His mind had been on edge lately, it was perfectly
conceivable that the horrid sound he had heard was the wind. The trickle
of sweat down his back told him he wasn't imagining things. Pa was right.
he had to face his fear. His feet felt like they were stuck in mud as he
tried to pry them loose and turn around. Looking down, he was sure he
would see an oozing black substance clinging to his boots preventing any
movement. Dissappointment coursed through his veins when all he saw was
straw and his boots. Nothing to prevent him turning around except the fear
that dominated his soul.

"Enough!" he said aloud, more to bolster his courage than to let Cochise in
on the little tricks his mind was playing on him. Closing his eyes he took
a deep breath, hoping a fresh supply of oxygen would bring courage with it.
Feeling speed would help him clear his mind, he quickly spun around and
opened his eyes, praying he and his horse would be alone in the barn.

Joe backed up two steps at what assaulted his field of vision. There is
was....

It was huge... Had to be at least a foot high... Covered in honey brown with
black spotted feathers, it's comb arching high to show displeasure. It was
the feared banty rooster from hell.

by Tamara

"NOOOOO!!!!" Joe screamed in a high pitched voice as he slapped his arms at his body and ran screaming from the barn. He immediately placed a fist to his mouth as he ran into the yard and almost ran right into his big brother Hoss.

"Big Shorty...what's the matter?" Hoss looked at his sweating pale brother with unmasked concern.

"Nuthin, Hoss....why?" Joe shuffled his foot back and forth and whistled as he plunged his hands into his pockets.

"Well..it's just that you looked like you had seen a ghost or something..." Hoss took one more look at his young brother and then reassuring himself that all was well, he turned back to his task.

Joe suddenly looked down, watching his brother rebandaging the damned goat's back leg and it was just more than he could take.

"What is it with you and that stupid goat, Hoss?" Joe's voice was louder than he intended.

"Joe...what do you mean?" Hoss stood up again cradling the goat in his arms...his feelings obviously hurt.

"He ain't never gonna be the same again..." Joe knew he was being mean, but he didn't even care anymore. "Ever since that accident where Adam shot your goat, thinking it was a wolf....well...Hans has never been right since that day..."

Hoss clasped his big hands over the goat's ears as he hurried to the small corral he had built for Hans. Carefully lifting the goat over the fence, he watched in satisfaction as the goat limped off.

Joe looked at the barn, wanting to go back in and grab Cochise, but not being able to find the nerve. As he contemplated his next move, he saw his brother Adam walking towards them.

"Hoss, how's Hans?" Adam joined his brothers at the corral and watched as the small billy goat limped towards his feed bucket.

"He's gonna be good as new in no time,Adam," Hoss grinned as he slapped his brother on the back...a little harder than necessary. "Of course, our little brother don't think so..."

Adam rubbed his hand up and down his shoulder, regarding Joe and then the goat.

"I don't know what this little goat has to do with your problems, Joe....why are you taking out your own frustrations on Hans? I think this goat might have better significance at a future time in your life..."

"Shut up, Adam..." Joe sneered at his brother as he backed away from them and tried to move towards the barn.

"Hi Joe!" Joe jerked his head around as he saw his friend Butch riding into the yard, a big smile on his face.

"Hi Butch...hey..saddle my horse, will ya? I have to run inside and get...something..." Joe turned and ran for the house.

Butch climbed from his mount and jogged into the barn..stopping long enough to kick a little chicken out of the way. He grabbed Joe's bridle and saddle and headed towards Cochise's stall.

"Umm...Butch...do you always do whatever Joe tells you to do?" Adam stood just inside the barn door watching Butch.

"Yeah, Butch..you can just tell him to do it himself..." Hoss slapped the little chicken away as it leapt into the air pecking at his knee.

"Well...Hoss..Adam...nothing can dampen my spirits today...not even your spoiled little brother..you see...we are headed to the Bucket of Blood tonight for the final round of the farting contest...and so far, I'm the champ!"

by deer

Joe hurried through the kitchen, grabbing a huge handfull of grapes as had heard Butch mention the farting contest from outside the thick Ponderosa pine wall. His heart pounded in his chest and sweat trickled down his tanned cheek as he fought to steady his breathing. His eyes darted around Hop Ching's kitchen, finally coming to rest on his prize. The hatchet. Joe immediately felt calmer as his sweaty palm grasped the wooden handle, worn smooth by countless fowl decapitations at Hop Ching's hands. The sharp blade filled Joe's tortured soul with a sense of peace, until, for a moment, he considered his weapon of choice.

Why not just choke the chicken? Why not just shoot the fowl entity? The spray of feathers would surely bring countless questions from the family...

No. Joe knew what he had to do. With renewed resolution, he balanced the tool in his hand and marched purposefully back towards the yard. And then....wait.

He had an audience. This was not something he could do before his mocking brothers and odiferous friend. Joe stopped, and returned to the kitchen, stuffing the hatchet handle into the back of his pants and another handful of grapes into his mouth. (The farting contest was important, too...)

Joe closed his eyes in serious meditation, the image of the attacking cock floating through his tortured brain. "Your days are numbered, you pecker!" he seethed, and with his courage renewed, his hatchet handy, his plan mapped out, and his intestines grumbling, Joe squared his shoulders and returned to the yard.

by gina

"Joe...I got Cochise all ready for you!" Butch trotted across the yard with Cochise in tow. He handed the reins to his friend.

"Thanks, Butch..." Joe mumbled as he nervously scanned the ground at and around his feet.

As Joe moved towards Cochise, he saw his brothers approaching. Turning his back on them, he prepared to mount.

"Um...Joe...that's quite a bulge you have in your pants...." Adam commented.

Joe angrily jerked his head around, making eye contact with his oldest brother and wishing not for the first time, that he had worn his long johns under his thin tan pants.

"You know I can't help that, Adam!" Joe quipped.

"Now...Joseph...Adam was talking about the bulge in the BACK of your pants." Hoss, face scrunched up...moved in for a closer look.

"Oh....th..th...th..this?" Joe stuttered as he pulled the axe out of the back of his pants. He stared at his brothers as he said a silent prayer of thanks that he hadn't vault mounted onto his horse's back before removing the axe.

"What are you doing with an axe in your pants?" Hoss asked, taking the tool from his brother.

"I...I...umm...I...well..uh...." Joe couldn't complete a thought. His whole being was focused on survival..on escaping from impending doom.

"Come on, Joe...we have to hurry....you know how important this contest is to me.." Butch whined as he climbed up into his horse's saddle.

"Okay...Butch..I'm comin'" Joe vaulted onto his saddle and smiled at his brothers. "I'll be home later..."

In one move, Joe pulled his horse's head around and jabbed him in the ribs. Cochise sprung into action and only reared when the chicken pecking at the ground near the barn door, suddenly leapt into the air, squawking and flapping it's wings, right in the horse's path. As Cochise spun in the air, finally landing on all fours...Joe lay sprawled in the dirt...quiet, unmoving and gorgeous.

"Joe!" Ben emerged from the house and ran to his son. He knelt at his side and tenderly turned him over. He cradled his head in his lap as he brushed a curl away from the boo boo on his forehead. "Joseph..." Ben whispered.

Ben motioned to Hoss to come and help and as Hoss leaned over to scoop his unconscious brother up into his arms, Ben...slapped the chicken away that was leaping into the air pecking at Joe's curls.

"Here.. now...go away..." Ben snapped at the little chicken.

Butch watched for a moment and then turned his horse towards Virginia City and rode off quickly. This contest made him special...he couldn't miss it.

Adam joined his father behind Hoss as the youngest Cartwright was carried into the ranch house. As they hurried to the stairs, noone saw the little chicken scurry into the house and hide behind the door.

by deer

Minutes passed as Joe lay unconscious, his hair slighly messed, a little dirt
on his face. Ben took off his son's shirt and carefully placed the blankets
at waist level, allowing his young son to look handsome in his incapacitated
state. It had always been important to Joe that he look good at all times
and Ben, wanting to give his son special attention, insured he remained as
stunning as ever (Really it was to give the writer and readers a cheap
thrill).

The family hovered and fussed until Hoss noticed something. Joe's dark tan
in contrast to the white sheets immediately made Hoss think of the chocolate
cake with white icing he had been waiting for. He rushed out of the room to
see if Hop Sing had finished baking. Seemed a shame about Joe, but he did
have his stomach to think about, after all.

As Joe groaned and stirred Ben could not help but think of that dreaded day
his world turned black when Marie had come off her horse. Ben began to tell
his son of the fear that he had felt in seeing his boy fall anmd the horrid
memory it brought forth. As he started the story, Joe moaned, "Pa, really I
got a headache. Could you hold it down and just do the stroking of the
shoulder bit? Your voice is not helping my head."

Ben moved his arm to Joe's shoulder offering comfort and love to his son.
Joe slowly looked over the room and saw Adam leaning against the wall, a
toothpick in his mouth. Adam commented, "This makes me think of a quote by
Thoreau. Men live lives of quiet desperation."

"What the hell does that have to do with me?" Joe asked, feeling grumpy.

"Uh... nothing. As a matter fo fact I haven't a clue what Thoreau is talking
about. Makes me miss Boston though. Someone in Boston would know what it
meant."

"Could you miss it somewhere else? I'm doing my best suffering right now and
all you want to do is lean against a wall, quote poetry and look bored. You
could try and work with me here. I have been injured!"

Adam rolled his eyes and left the room leaving Ben alone with his boy. Joe
sighed and looked at his father, "Pa, the chick-... I mean... is Cochise all
right?"

"She's fine son."

"She? Pa, Cochise is a boy horse. Don't you know how to tell? You see you
bend down and look for-"

Ben held up his hand, "I know how to tell a boy horse from a girl horse son.
I simply was relying a little too much on the words given to me by another.
He's fine."

by laura

Joe struggled to sit up in an effort to convince his Pa to leave him alone.
Although he usually enjoyed the pampering his Pa gave him on the numerous
occasions he was sick or injured, today he had other thoughts on his mind.
"Pa, I'm fine. Just leave me alone please."

Gently brushing the curls off his youngest child's forehead Ben studied the
handsome face. His son's eyes and gaze agreed with the words just spoken.
But the trembling lower lip told the real story-his boy was afraid to be
alone. Something was badly frightening his son, but he didn't know what.

"Son," Ben said as he pushed the boy back down on the bed. "You're afraid
of something. Please tell me what?" He pulled the covers up over the
deeply tanned chest hoping to prevent a chill.

Joe's thoughts were in a tangle. Should he confess his gut-wrenching fear
to the man who loved him more than anyone else in the world, or be grown-up
and try to handle it on his own. A sound in the hallway drew his attention.
Very softly, the sound drifted into the room. "Bock, bock, bock." Joe's
expressive green eyes went wild with fear as he turned to the doorway.
"No-no."

Ben Cartwright grabbed his son by the arms and pulled him close. "What is
it Joseph? I can't help you if you don't tell me."

Joe was paralyzed with fear, but he couldn't control the trembling that
shook his young, strong, virile, tanned, sexy, semi-nude, muscular body. He
finally managed to open his mouth to speak. "Pa, I…"

"What have you done to yourself now young man? I'm getting mighty tired of
patching you up boy." Doctor Paul Martin said from his place in the
doorway.

Joe clamped his mouth shut, thoughts of unburdening his fears to his Pa gone
as he glared at the doctor. "What are you doing here?"

"Butch stopped by before he went to the contest. He sent me out, said you
had taken a fall from Cochise." Paul said as he set his well-worn black
leather bag on the nightstand.

Joe crossed his well-muscled arms across the blankets. "I'm fine."

"We'll just see about that won't we?' Paul said, knowing this examination
would not go well. He sat beside his young patient and pulled the blankets
down to Joe's waist. He ran his hands over the boy's ribs, noticing a
series of grunts as he pressed on the left lower side. "I thought so."
Paul turned and looked at his friend Ben who had been watching the
examination. "Couple of cracked ribs, but he'll be fine."

Ben ran a hand through his silver hair, glad that his baby would be okay
once again. He looked at Little Joe lying on the bed and noticed his son
was becoming agitated again, glancing first to the left and then to the
right.

"Joe, what's wrong?" Paul asked, noticing his young patient's distress.

"Nothing. I'm fine." The boy said, hoping to disguise his feelings and not
provide an explanation. A feather floated down from the ceiling causing him
to try to scramble out of bed. "No, No!" he screamed.

Paul grabbed the boy and held him down, aided by Ben. Something was
definitely wrong here both men thought as one.


Just then, a tall woman dressed in white entered the room. Still pinning
the struggling boy to the bed, Paul nodded toward the woman. "This is my
new nurse. She can handle bandaging Joe's ribs, and I would like to talk to
you downstairs Ben. We'll get to the bottom of this."

Joe stopped his struggles, eager to have his Pa and the Doctor leave. He
needed time alone to think, and he couldn't control his emotions much
longer. Maybe he could convince the nurse to leave also. Joe looked at her
and decided she was okay looking, but nothing like the girls he had seen in
the saloon in town.

Ben looked at his son laying on the bed and said. "Now you behave for the
nurse. Do you hear me Joseph?"

"Yes, Pa." Joe whispered as he stared down at the sheets that covered his
semi-nude body.

Both men left and went downstairs. The whisper of "what kind of contest"
came through the door just before the nurse firmly closed the door. She
looked at the boy on the bed. He was devastatingly handsome, and
oh-so-young. Just the way she liked them. "You don't mind if I make
myself comfortable before I bandage you do you?" she asked.

Little Joe shook his head. He had more important things on his mind than
getting his ribs bandaged. Now where was that chicken? But then his gaze
was drawn back to the woman before him.

The nurse pulled the pins from her hair and luxurious waves of deep gold
fell halfway down her back. She slowly unbuttoned the front of her nurses
white uniform, and smiled at the reaction from the boy on the bed.

"Uh, Miss-miss. I'm sorry I didn't catch your name." Joe stuttered as the
sheet covering his lap started to rise mysteriously, as if the white cotton
fabric had a life of it's own.

"That's okay honey," she said as she dropped her dress to the floor and
stood clad only in a black brassiere, panties and garters with stockings.
"It's Henrietta Penniwhistle. But to my friends, and we will be close
friends I'm sure Joseph-I'm known as Henny Penny."

"AAAHHHHH" Joe's scream split the air.

by tamara

The nurse put her hands on her hips and shook her finger at the boy on the bed. "Now Little Joseph, what is all this yelling about? I'm just going to fix you up as good as new." she said, unfastening her bra, her lush breasts falling free of the black lace.

Little Joe was spellbound-This was the first time in his eighteen years he had actually been this close to real naked breasts. He had had more than his share of experiences with girls, but this was an opportunity he couldn't pass up, even if she was named after a chicken.

Henny Penny seductively strolled to the bed, her young patient lying still atop the mattress, the sheets pulled up to his waist. She sat down on the bed next to him and stroked his curly hair. "You have wonderful hair Joe, but I'm sure girls have been telling you that for a long time. Haven't they?" she asked licking her ruby red lips.

"Y-Y-Yes ma'am." Joe answered.

"Oh, my dear don't call me ma'am. It makes me feel old." she smiled showing perfect white teeth. "Just call me Henny. You can do that can't you dear?"

Little Joe nodded, not trusting his voice to speak.

She bent over him, her lips seeking his. They kissed deeply for a moment, then she broke it off and placed her finger over his lips. "Shhhhh." She continued her seduction by nuzzling his ear, and then started kissing her way down his bare chest. "Now I'll fix your boo boo's Little Joe, although I don't think Doctor Martin would approve of the way I plan to do it. Starting at mid-chest, she kissed each rib, then slid her tongue across his chest asking each time. "Is this the cracked one?"

Joe didn't know what to do, so he did the best thing his mind could come up with. He layed back on the pillow and decided to just enjoy it. He watched her progression down his middle, her deep golden curls spilling across his chest-the color of NO-don't think it. He squeezed his eyes shut and couldn't control the shudder that passed through him. Egg Yolks. Little Joe took several deep breaths and opened his eyes. He shivered with anticipation as she passed his last rib and starting kissing his abdomen.

She placed her hand on his muscular upper thigh and he groaned involuntarily. She looked at her young patient lying on the bed, the lust in his eyes easily visible. "Joseph?"

"Yes?"

"I need you to do something for me."

A thought came unbidden to his mind as he pushed himself up on his elbows. She wants foreplay-now? But he answered relatively calmly given the advanced state of his arousal. "What?"

"I need a little verbal stimulation." she purred softly, as she licked his abdomen.

Little Joe opened his eyes at looked at her. Verbal stimulation? She expected him to be able to understand three syllable words at this point? She had to know there was no blood going to his brain-she was a nurse after all.

Henny Penny stopped her seduction to look deeply into the eyes of her young patient.

When Joe realized she wasn't going to continue until he acquiesced, he said. "Sure, whatever you need."

She pressed him back to the bed and stroked his lightly muscled chest. She returned to his lower abdomen and started flicking her tongue in and out of his navel. Then she spoke softly "I need you to say 'The sky is falling' for me baby."

Little Joe tensed and thought for a moment. Was this experience worth fighting back his fear of chickens? A feminine hand grasped his upper thigh and inched its way upward. Joe made a quick decision-Hell yes and produced the desired "The sky is falling"

Henny Penny moaned and writhed on the bed, continuing to move her hand. "Again." she purred.

"The sky is falling." Little Joe whispered closing his eyes.

"Again."

"The sky is falling."

Again."

"The sky is falling."

Little Joe opened his eyes and indeed the ceiling to his bedroom was just two feet above his head. He sat up quickly with a cry and smacked his head right into that of his brother Hoss who had been bending over him. Both men recoiled, grabbing their aching foreheads.

"Ow! Little Joe what do you think you're doing?" Hoss bellowed.

Joe rubbed his sore head and looked around him bewildered to see everything back where it should be.

"You okay little brother?" Hoss said, not liking the strange look in Joe's eyes.

Joe thought a moment before responding. "Yeah I'm fine." He felt the bandages wrapping his middle and decided at least that part of the dream was true. "Hey Hoss, was Doc Martin here?"

"Uh huh." Hoss said, concerned his brother didn't remember.

LJ bit his lips. "Did he have a nurse with him?"

Hoss shook his head. "Nope, him and Pa took care of your ribs. Said you're supposed to stay in bed for a couple days."

Joe frowned and looked for some indication that his dream had been real. To his dismay, all he saw was a few chicken feathers littering the floor where Henny Penny had let her brassiere drop.

"Hey little brother, what's that on your neck? " Hoss said as he traced a pattern on Joe's neck. Looks like you got pecked by a chicken or something."

When he looked back to his brother's eyes, he was surprised to see them wild-eyed with fear.

 by Tamara

Joe stood at his window studying the scene taking place below him. Adam, wearing that familiar torn and dirty shirt, trudged back and forth from the old shed to the woodpile. A bandanna wrapped around his head and a face that was devoid of emotion, his oldest brother entered the small wooden building to emerge moments later clutching clumps of dirt in both fists. He would stumble to the woodpile and throw the dirt down and then repeat the actions. Joe never understood this particular ritual with Adam.

Joseph jumped when his father and Hoss came into the room and it took several deep breaths for him to steady the unnatural fear building within him.

"If I had waited to call out for YOU, this fly would have been in the house!" Joe yelled.  Hoss and Ben jerked back at the obvious anger in the youngest Cartwright's voice.

"Son, I think maybe you need a change of scenery...maybe even some fresh air."  Ben gently turned his son away from the window and led him to the door of his room.  "Joseph, I want you to go down into the yard and help your brother Adam with his...chore."

"No, Pa!...not that!"  Joe began, but Ben gave him the look. 

"Don't talk back to me, young man...you get yourself out there and help your oldest brother."  Ben watched as Joe slowly walked towards the staircase.  Ben turned to face Hoss. "I'm worried about that boy, Hoss...something is wrong..."

Hoss nodded his head in agreement.

Joe made his way out into the yard as slow as he possibly could.  He approached his brother who was stumbling towards the water bucket.  He cautiously joined him as Adam dipped his hand into the bucket and drank heartily from it.  Joe gazed in at the dirt and grime now floating in the drinking water and rolled his eyes.

"Hi, Adam...Pa told me to come help you."  Adam jerked around and faced his youngest brother.

"Adam...it's me...Little Joe..."  Joe's voice raised an octave as he tried to back away from his brother.   Slowly, Adam shook his head and then released him,  settling down on the steps of the porch. 

"Come sit here with me, little brother...."  Adam waited for Joe to sit down.  "Little brother...I want you to tell me what's been bothering you lately."

Joe chewed his lower lip and looked away, but Adam waited patiently. 

"Adam..it's just...it's....well...Adam..can I ask you somethin'?"  Joe asked timidly.

"Can't it wait till morning...I'm bone tired..."  Adam snapped.

Joe looked around and noticed the sun high in the sky.  "Adam...it's the middle of the day..."

"Yes, of course it is...what is it you want to talk about, Joe..."  Adam seemed to focus again.

"Well..."  Joe began. "Adam...do you think it's wrong to kill a chicken?  I mean..not for food ..but just to kill him...could there ever be a reason that would make killing a chicken okay to do? I just can't figure out the answer to that..Adam..and it's driving me crazy..."  Joe continued chewing his incredibly beautiful lower lip.

"Joe..I know the answer to that..."  Adam sat up straight and made eye contact with his little brother.   "There is NEVER a reason to kill a chicken, Little Joe...you always remember that.  Nothing could ever drive me to kill a chicken...nothing." 

"But, Adam..."   Joe began and stood to his feet.

"No...no reason...except..."  Adam stood up next to Joe.

"What? What except?"   Joe asked.

In a flash, Adam lifted Joe up and deposited him in the water trough, forcing his head under the water for a moment.   When Joe jerked out of the water and gasped for air, Adam jogged towards the house.

Joe reached over the side of the trough and grabbed the first thing his hand came to rest on and reached back to throw it at Adam.

"BAK!!!" 

The scream filled the yard and echoed through the house as Joe realized he was holding the chicken in his hand.  He jumped to his feet and threw it down, leaping from the water trough and running towards the barn.

"BAK!!  BAK!!"

by deer

NEXT???

He never made it as far as the safety of the barn. The force of Joe’s powerful leap out of the trough had slopped water all around, dampening the cursed chicken and several of his feathered companions. The chickens scattered wildly into the air, going in every direction and effectively blocking the young man’s escape route. Joe stopped running, his screams turning to frightened whimpers as he looked frantically around, seeing no escape. The flock advanced on him, necks jerking forward to nip at his legs as Joe backed slowly toward the outer wall of the barn. He could see the madness glowering in their little beady eyes, wings ruffling in rage as they came for him. He knew that he was doomed, for there was nothing in life madder than a wet hen!

"NO!" He screamed. "I won’t let it end like this! You won’t take me without a fight!" Wishing with all his heart that he had grabbed his gun, Joe used the only weapon at his disposal. He tore off his still dripping shirt and flailed it through the air, sending droplets of moisture flying toward the murderous fowl. The enraged chickens hopped away, cackling their displeasure as their prey frantically scored the dusty ground in front of him, driving them back. A surge of triumph filled him as the enemy continued to fall back. This time he would do it! He would show his tormentor who was boss on the Ponderosa! Then, he heard it… That battle cry torn from so many nightmares!

BAK!

It was behind him! While Joe had been busy driving back the advancing army of hens, the rooster had maneuvered its way behind him for a rear assault. The little chicken jumped into the air as Joe took a desperate backhand swipe with his wet shirt, the sleek damp muscles of his chest rippling as the sunlight glimmered on the droplets beaded over his perfectly tanned skin. A sob tore through Joe as he realized his aim had missed its mark. A sharp peck stabbed against the right cheek of his tightly clenched ass and he screamed in combined frustration and terror. What was this peculiar fascination everyone and everything seemed to have with his ass lately, Joe wondered. Why only days ago, when he had signed up for the farting contest, hoping to improve on his former third place finish, he had heard murmurs filling the room as everyone studied the prize winning piece of anatomy with approval. He had heard them noting that as spectators they too would now have a close connection with Little Joe’s Ass.

The chicken took another shot at him, missing by inches and Joe gave up his show of bravery and flung his wet shirt over the bird, stumbling toward the sanctuary of the house with all the speed he could muster, tears flowing heavily over his cheeks. He desperately ripped open the door and slammed it shut, leaning against the reassuringly heavy piece of wood and sinking to a crouch as relief crashed through him strong enough to make his knees go weak. His tears turned to full-fledged sobs as he relived his narrow escape and Joe buried his face in his arms.

Ben stared in dumb shock for a moment as he beheld his son kneeling there wet and half naked, his beautiful sculpted torso heaving with emotion. Ben rushed to his boy’s side and knelt next to him, gathering him close. "There, there, boy. What’s wrong?"

"Oh, Pa," Joe sobbed. "The chickens, they’re everywhere! I can’t stand it anymore. Help me!"

by Helen

NEXT????

It was hours later that a very distraught Joe started to reach back into the murky relm of reality. There he lay once more, secure and beautiful against the stacked pillows under his head his magnificent chest breathing normally for a change. And Ben was there of course, talking soothingly trying to make Joe awaken.

"Joseph, son? Can You hear me?" He worriedly asked is eyebrows arching perfectly.

Joe spoke in a whisper--"Pa--oh no--Pa--I can't see you! I can't see you--Pa! I'm blind!"

Ben shook his head and laughed "If you would open your eyelids it would be easier to see!"

Joe opened them "Oh--sorry, pa. Hey do we have a cat?" He asked bewildered.

"Huh?' Ben asked confused.

"Nevermind." Joe sat up and swung his legs to the side of the bed. He flinched, pain apparent on his handsome beyond belief, face. 

"What is it son? Are you hurting?" Ben paused and tried to remember what actually had happened to Joe- "I think it is broken ribs this--time--no wait!That was last week--maybe a bullet in the back?No that hasn't happened YET!"He thought to himself inventorying Joes many many mishaps. Oh well, sooner or later every inch of his sons body would in some way be affected by some kind of disease, mishap, or torture so it really didn't matter. His job was to stroke Joes arm and look concerned. He drew out Joes life insurance policy out of his vest and studied it briefly.

"Pa--I have a question for you." Joe almost mumbled.
 

Ben stuffed the paper back inside the buckskin vest, not wanting to appear anxious.
 

Ben's eyebrows narrowed. "Yes?"
 

Joe studied the face of the person he knew loved him more than anyone or anything. He noticed, however, for the first time that Bens eyebrows could take such weird shapes. They looked almost like something from another planet at times--Vulcanish for sure.
 

"What , Joe?" 
 

"If say a person were hurt--like real bad--then would be alright to kill it? I mean him?I mean if the chicken had it coming--I mean a man really were badly injured?"
 

The background music became soft and Ben started to go back to the sea again. "i saw a man fall to the deck of a ship from the crows nest--I saw a man trampled by a stampede--lots and lots of men trampled in stampedes--by the way Joe--how many times do I have to tell you to stop firing your gun at roundup time?"
 

"Huh?" Joe didn't quite get it.
 

"Anyway--you must listen to the pulse of life--fight with it not against it! Do you understand?" Ben reached out and touched Joes shoulder for effect.
 

Joe hadn't heard a word Ben had said he was still too busy looking at Bens eyebrow magic.
 

"Well, you think about it son. Still feel bad?" Ben hope for a nod so he could get back to the insurance stuff.
 

"Well, I guess--better than having an arm full of gangrene."
 

"What?" Ben didn't quite catch that one either--but new somewhere in his heart he would have to add that on to the insurance policy.
 

"I need to go out and think on it>" Joe said and reached for his green jacket hanging on the headboard. He put one arm into it and it fell before him into pieces.
 

Ben went to the closet and opened it up to see 100 more jackets, same size same color. "Here!" He called to Joe.

"Hand me that one--looks like it might have been defective.
 

Joe left the ranch house and saw in the yard his brother Hoss walking around with a dousing rod. H
"Hey--Hoss! Looking for gold again?" Joe asked.
 

"Naw watch this!" Hoss called and his brother was led over to behind the horse trough. The stick pointed down. Hoss reached behind the trough and pulled out a big fat hen. "See, Little Brother! Now we can catch all the chickens that got loose from the henhouse! Wanna help me?"
 

Panic took over Joe's strikingly awesome face and he ran behind the barn.
 

Hoss was later in the study with his father discussing Joe. "Pa--I think I have it all figured out! Joe has such an adversion to chickens--maybe he's---"
 

Ben stopped Hoss in mid-sentence "No, Hoss! Don't say it!" Ben pleaded.
 

Determined Hoss continued, "He's a vegetarian! He doesn't want to harm the little guys!"
 

Ben shook his head sadly. How would this go over with the Cattlemens Association? Would they make him give them back the rifle he treasured? He paused and shook his head, knowing he had to help Joseph in some way despite what this would do to family Bar B Que night. "well, maybe if we will bring some of the chicks in the house Joe will understand that we really don't want to eat them anymore. Go bring me in some and don't forget that rooster--I think Joe especially likes him as I heard him mentioning the rooster in that bloody nightmare he had last night." Hoss grinned and left for the barn.
 

Outside Joe sat on the edge of the porch playing with his pinwheel, a gift given to him as a lark but something he got so much enjoyment out of that nobody had ever been able to take it from him.
 

It was then that Adam appeared behind him sitting at the table. "hey--Joe--I think I know something that will cheer you up!" he called.
 

"You are finally leaving?" Joe said turning around.
 

"No, you know how you like my singing--how about joining me in a song?"
 

Joe rolled his eyes at his brother, or the guy at least pa had SAID was his brother but appeared a little too old to have possibly BEEN his brother. Joe figured anything to get him to shut up and the horrible sound might keep the chickens at bay for awhile.
 

"Okay". He said and Adam stared his song. "Old MacDonald had a farm--E i E i O! And on his farm he had some--"
 

Joe knew what was coming next--he braced for the assault to his ears. "Chicks--E i E i O---With a chick chick here and a chick chick there--
 

Joe was now terrified as the song was like a battle song drawing chickens from all over not just the yard--but the surrounding counties! Herds and herds of chickens came from nowhere! Joe sprang to his feet and ran in the house.
 

Ben watched as a flash went by him. A green flash. Joe missed his target of the stairs and slammed into the wooden chair at the bottom of the steps. Ben hurried over to him " Son--" He started but Joe pushed him away.

"I don't need your help!" Joe cried. Ben cleared his throat. "i wasnt' helping you I was checking to see if the chair was broken--you have gone through six already this week!" Ben said sternly.
 

BAK!
 

There they were peaking in from the kitchen--Joe had never seen so many. Ben turned and smiled at his son. "Oh--that was Hoss and my idea--we are having them in the house as pets just for you, son!"
 

"AHHHHHHHHHH!" Joe screamed and ran up the steps.
 

"I thought you'd be pleased!" Ben called after him. But no reply. Ben turned back to his desk and to check on his household insurance to see if he finally had enough furniture damage to make a claim.

by Wrangler