Finding Obsidian

30 - Confessions

Feathers were flying everywhere.

The remaining workers—those who hadn't run away entirely, that is—were crowded at the back of the room, their gazes pinned on the rooster wreaking havoc in their kitchen.

I, however, was looking it in its beady little eyes. 

My left fist was full of some dried corn I'd snatched off the kitchen counter, and I was currently trying to talk the rooster out of maiming its newest victim. The red beast stood perched atop a human body, its malicious little claws digging into their chest threateningly.

"Hey, little guy," I said, strained. "Why don't you get off that human beneath you, and go find a nice chicken to play with instead?"

The rooster only screeched in response, its talons digging deeper into its victim's shirt. I watched him wince slightly, spread-eagled on the floor. 

I mirrored his expression, glaring down at the body beneath the creature's claws. "See, Rian? This is why you should never drink."

"Noted," he growled, keeping his eyes trained on the bird prowling across his torso.

Let me explain. In an attempt to keep the rooster from causing more trouble, Rian—in his drunk, hyper-aggressive state—had tried to tackle it. 

Yes, you read that correctly. Rian, master of all things logical, had attempted to tackle a rooster, a bird approximately five feet shorter than him.

How he expected that to work, I'd never know. All I knew was that now I was stuck trying to keep him from getting his eyes clawed out.

The rooster flapped its wings wildly, seemingly agitated by the silence. I quickly began talking in soothing tones again, trying to coax it off my dance partner's chest.

"Okay," I said gently. "You're lost, aren't you?" I wracked my brain, trying to figure out where it could have possibly come from. "You probably ran away from that farmers' fair down the street, huh?" I realized suddenly.

The bird crowed as if in assent, and I nodded slowly.

"Good." I said, edging closer to it. "Then maybe you wouldn't mind going back?"

Its feathers ruffled, and he squawked loudly. I cringed as Rian groaned through gritted teeth. Those claws were sharp, and I guessed from its reaction that it wasn't looking to go back to the fair anytime soon.

I blinked as something occurred to me. Was I learning to speak rooster?

Another frenzied crow dragged my attention back to the situation at hand. I extended my hands innocently. Maybe if I established a bond with it, it'd listen to me.

"Why don't we start with something simple," I paused, thinking of a way to create a bond between me and the bird. "Uh . . . Kevin."

A few workers at the back of the room scoffed. I looked up at them threateningly. "I don't see any of you trying to remove this rooster. From your own damn kitchen, might I add."

That shut them up. I eyed them for a couple moments longer until they started to shift uncomfortably. "Sorry," one muttered grudgingly.

"You should be. Now shut up and let me work."

I turned back to the bird, which had cocked its head almost inquisitively. "That's right," I reassured it, inching closer again. "I can call you Kevin, can't I?"

It tottered around, seeming to consider the name. I watched, a little in awe of myself—I was an honest-to-goodness rooster whisperer—as it squawked approvingly.