Feathers and Eggs

Chapter Four

Not long after, Mumbo and Poultry Man safely landed on the roof of a large, unoccupied business building. I guess it's lucky businesses have started closing early since Poultry Man's arrival. It makes it easier for him to get around without detection. Poultry Man threw a random coffee cup off the top of the building in disgust. "Yuck. Not only are they having coffee which is worse for you than tea, but some random person had to leave their cup up here? Sorry it's such a mess," the chicken man apologized. Mumbo shrugged his shoulders. "I don't mind. Messiness in the city is to be expected, I think," he said nonchalantly.

Poultry Man took a seat on the floor near the edge of the building. He motioned for Mumbo to sit on the A/C unit across from him. The reporter picked up a few scraps of paper from the floor that looked to be from receipts and random copying paper before taking a seat and placing his umbrella beside him. He readied his pen as Poultry Man tapped his fingers on the ground patiently. "Okay, I believe I'm ready if you are!" the reporter announced. The masked man nodded his head. "Go for it," he responded.

Mumbo thought about the first question he wanted to ask. "Okay, maybe let's start with something easy. How old are you?" The chicken head looked down at the ground in thought. "Well, I'm older than a high school student. I'm not old enough to get senior discounts though." 

Mumbo chuckled. "Are you middle aged?" Poultry Man tilted his head. "I think I'm a bit younger than that. You're not getting my real age, though, Mr. Reporter." Mumbo smiled and shook his head as he wrote down the vague information. Older than a 18 and younger than a middle aged person. Got it.

"So, why do you dress as a chicken? Do they have some sort of special meaning to you?" Mumbo asked. Poultry Man laughed. "Chickens don't really have a special meaning to me, no. I mean, I do feel bad for them sometimes, but it was mostly for originality and humor. Like, if you hear about a man running around as a chicken, you're going to think of me! It's nice to have solo recognition for something, you know?" Mumbo nodded at the statement. "I can understand that. That's how I feel sometimes when I'm covering your stories. People look to me for news about you. It is good to be well known for something. Where did the idea of a chicken come from specifically, though? Did you have a pet or anything?"

"No. I just thought, 'What's something no one would want to dress as?' Then I became a chicken. No real interesting story there. Just me thinking randomly." Mumbo jotted it all down. He had already filled two small scraps of paper, which he stuck in his pocket. He was ready to start writing again on a third paper. "Now the main question: Why do you throw eggs at people? I mean, that seems a bit childish. Kids throw eggs at people's houses; that's semi normal. However, grown men don't really go around dressed up and flying around the city launching eggs at random people walking around. So why do you do what you do?" Mumbo frowned, looking up at Poultry Man in curiosity. The masked man shrugged in response. "I guess for the fun of it really. At first, I was just trying to raise awareness for the cruel treatment of chickens after reading an article. I knew it was a bit of an extreme thing to do, but I felt like I had to. Eventually, it just became fun. The whole 'throwing eggs' thing was an accident, by the way, the first time."

Mumbo raised his eyebrows. "Really?"

"Yeah. I was carrying some eggs home that I may or may not have taken from a farm that was being cruel to chickens. Anyway, I was flying through the city and accidentally dropped one on some hippie that was standing on the sidewalk. His bewilderment was something I found really funny. The next night, I went out and started throwing more eggs on people. Now it's kind of like my signature." Mumbo was writing quickly. While he was busy writing, Poultry Man pulled out an egg from somewhere behind him and held it out to Mumbo. "You can look at my ammunition if you want. Heck, take it with you for all I care. I've got plenty more." Poultry Man gestured to a large pile of eggs that were sitting in a dark corner of the rooftop, hidden from the view of those who weren't looking closely. Mumbo took the egg that was being given to him.

"How did you just have an egg with you?" the reporter asked. "Were you planning to hit me with it?"

"Yeah it was going to be for whoever I spotted walking around out here tonight. That is, until the person I spotted had an umbrella with them. Also, I have a pouch for carrying two extra eggs with me. See?" The man in the chicken costume raised his shirt, showing what looked like a fanny pack being worn backward. There seemed to be something inside of the pouch, presumably another egg. Poultry Man lowered his shirt as Mumbo made a note of the extra eggs. I probably won't add this in, but I think it's important for me to know at least.

"Thanks for the egg. I don't mean to sound rude, but does it not seem a bit hypocritical to want to help chickens but then throw their eggs?" Mumbo crossed his arms smugly, knowing his question should cause some doubt for his interviewee. However, the masked man did not falter.

"A lot of the eggs I get sadly do not contain any life in them. The farms here have especially poor conditions, so many of the eggs go wasted. For those that did have potential to become a chick, think of it in terms of war-" Mumbo's eyes widened in worry. "War This is a war to you?" he asked incredulously.

"In a way, yes. I am fighting for better chicken rights, and my enemies are enslaving these chickens in awful conditions. Sound familiar to actual world events?" After Mumbo nodded slowly, Poultry Man cleared his throat and continued. "Often times in war, young people are desired as soldiers. Not only is this because they are generally the strongest and easiest to use, but it is also because there are normally a lot of them. The same goes for eggs. They are strong, easy, and plentiful. I am not eating the eggs, nor am I physically hurting chickens. I am simply rallying eggs in an effort to raise awareness for my cause."

Mumbo squinted his eyes, a smirk on his face. "And because they're more fun to throw than chickens?" Poultry Man rubbed the back of his head and nodded, the smile on his face easily heard in his response. "And because they're more fun to throw than chickens, yeah." Mumbo put down his pen, jotting down none of the new information. "Can I ask some questions about you? I mean, as in the person behind the mask?

Poultry Man stood up off the floor and turned around, his back to Mumbo. Mumbo scrambled up quickly from his spot, worried that his question had upset Poultry Man somehow. After some silence, Poultry Man's head slowly turned to glance at Mumbo. The costumed man lifted the bottom part of his mask, revealing a grin. "Not today, Mumbo," he smirked. With that, he put his mask on fully, spread his wings, and flew off into the night. Mumbo sighed in frustration. So not only is he leaving me on a cliffhanger, but he's leaving me on a building top. Nice guy.

Mumbo began yelling for assistance.