Chickens (Short story.)

"Omelets! Omelets! Fresh and delicious!"
Declared the waiter, who resembled more of a slice of bacon. He slid the tray onto the table with flourish, his pale brown eyes radiating with delight. Unknown to Aria, he was quite new at his job and enjoyed making it dramatic. This had raised business considerably, and he had gotten a raise.

Aria pinned up her curly brown hair, her picky nature refusing to allow her hair to get dirty. Her blue eyes gleaming with hunger, she stabbed the steaming with a fork, popping a bite in her mouth."Delicious!" She mumbled. Her, living the simple life of a farm girl, her breakfast consisted of a piece of cheese and maybe a slice of stale bread, for eating was not something she had time to do as a small orphan with over twenty cows to milk.

"What is in it?" She mumbled after a few bites, some of the omelet coming out of her mouth. She wiped it with her napkin subconsciously, blushing scarlet as she realized this wasn't an average fast food restaurant it was quite fancy and polite, and some of the customers gave her disgusted looks. The waiter smiled mischievously, already turning his back when he replied over his shoulder, "Straight from the egg." He replied. Suddenly Aria was hit with a horrible feeling. She had been raised on a farm and before her mother had died six years ago, she had carried on the superstition eating chicken eggs were cruel. Turkey or geese she could cheerfully butter up for dinner without a hint of guilt, but not chickens. "W-what kind of egg?" She demanded, her hands trembling slightly. The waiter winked. An idiot costumer would often tip more that the average, something that, in his opinion, was needed and appreciated for his difficult work of bringing trays to tables. "That is our secret." He replied, skipping off absurdly.

He looked so ridiculous Aria knew something was going on. Her mind spinning, she got up, quietly slipping out of her seat, her dangling feet landing with a thump. She walked up to the register, the chubby cashier was busy in the kitchen, 'testing' the food. She slipped through the door into the kitchen, where the cashier looked backwards guiltily, eggs dripping from his mouth all over his greasy chin. Pretending nobody was there was the best way to prevent guilt, so he did so.

There was another door at the end, a smaller one with no handle or lock. Nobody payed any attention to the fifteen year old girl the size of a six year old clumsily sneaking through the kitchen. She studied the door carefully, tapping her glasses absently. It wasn't locked, so she pulled it open.

She slipped in, bolt locked the door, which the confused construction worker installing the door had been fired for installing backwards, and switched on the clumsily installed light. Then she had to bite her hand, drawing blood, to keep from screaming.

She wiped the blood onto her leather jacket, and stared in horror, her glasses magnifying her already large eyes. Thousands of chickens were in small, bare pens, some sitting on eggs on cheap pillows and looking quite proud and some looking distraught, standing up every now and then and spinning in circles.

Not chickens.
Anything but chickens.

She tugged on a lock on the most rusted, but it simply creaked. She began to panic. She tugged it harder, and looked around the room. "A key!" She muttered, jumping up (which only gave her another two inches of height) and heading to the wall. There was a small hook, the key hanging on it. It was about a foot above her. She pushed a cage under it, the chicken squawking alarmingly, and pulled herself up on the top, standing up unsteadily.

She tugged it off, unlocking three of the cages. The chickens squawked suspiciously, while some immediately ran out. They ran around the room, the cages empty and forgotten. All that could get around her pecked her legs, arms, and they piled on top of each other to get to her face, in a maniac attack rush. She kicked one hard, so hard her foot ached the next day, but her small strength hurt her more than the chicken. "Ungrateful creatures!" She screamed despairingly, tears running down her face in pain.

Suddenly the light was off. The chickens began to glow with an unnatural light. Their beaks grew long and sharp, and one opened its mouth, revealing several sharp teeth. Their feathers became pointed and rigid. Their squawking became screeches, filling her ears and echoing in her mind. There was somebody knocking on the door rapidly, which happened to be the panicked waiter who had served her table, and she quickly opened it, covering up her pecked face and running out of the kitchen.

She slid back into her seat, and all in the kitchen there were yells of alarm. She smiled, slid into her booth, and stabbed some omelet with a fork. She popped in her mouth, and it tasted even better.