Author's Note: GAH I'M SORRY DON'T THROW STONES DX
Past Hearts & Beyond.
Kowalski was laughing at the sight but his blood ran cold once the Blue Hen entered through the same doorway.
"K'walski…" Private started to point. "Isn't that the-"
The penguin analyst lowered the private's flipper with his own. It was rude to point. "Yes Private." Kowalski said through a tightly gritted beak. "Yes it IS her."
Well wasn't this a turnout? Every villain they ever fought against plus the one and only diabolical chicken from the hen house herself. It had been quite some time since they'd been in the same perimeter. Quite some time indeed…
"Hello Kowaaalski." The hen greeted smug.
Kowalski didn't dignify her with a return in greeting. He just glared back at her with a hard look.
"Oh don't give me such a hard stare. We both know you missed my luscious feathers on yours. BAWK BAWK BAWK!" The Blue Hen put her wings on his chest, making the smart penguin flush along with his forced scowl. The one that was fading against his will.
Kowalski thanked Isaac Newton that his leader was there to rescue him before he turned another shade darker than he already had.
"Hey Hen. Get your lusciously disgusting wings off my soldier before they turn into Louisiana fried." Skipper warned.
Rico gave an evil cackle. He was already aiming the bazooka at the hen, ready to obliterate her on command.
"You didn't know Hans." Skipper stared at her with high suspicion. "State your business at his burying or it won't just be Hans we'll be burying six feet under!" He glared but his glare saddened at his own words. He shook his head and put back up his glare, though it looked a lot more grave than irritated. "Well? You heard me! State your business!"
"That vein in your head will burst sooner or later and you won't be so high and mighty then." The Blue Hen replied. "But until then I ask for your permission to give Kowalski a little fortune telling reading. It's for his own good!"
Kowalski glared, not at all convinced by whatever trick she was trying to pull. "You know very well that you do not believe in fortune telling and neither do I. That's a hard FACT!"
"It may be but you know very well that I know what's going to happen before it does. Therefor you should heed my warning." The Blue Hen shot back.
"Why on this universe would you want to warn me of anything?" The analyst asked, raising his voice.
Up at the podium Fred the squirrel tapped the microphone. "Is this thing on?"
"Because I do." The Blue Hen said. "And I love to mess with your mind!"
"You leave my mind alone you common grocery store item found in the section marked for proteins!" Kowalski exclaimed.
Fred still spoke into the microphone, trying to get it to work even though it was already working. "Testing, testing, one, two…hey what comes after three?"
"So? What do you say?" The hen asked the leader penguin for the permission.
"I SAY who the heck invited Fred here!" Skipper cried in annoyance.
"That was me Skippah. I invited Fred." Private spoke up.
Skipper groaned. "What for?"
"He never gets invited to our social gatherings." The private said. He felt horribly sorry for Fred. The poor squirrel was alone all the time up in that tree. It must feel awful!
"Okay but this isn't a social gathering Private…" Skipper tried to explain calmly but his annoyance was most obvious.
"It's not?" The young Brit blinked.
"No. It's a funeral. It's different! And Fred didn't even know Hans!" Skipper told him.
"But the Blue Hen didn't know Hans either, Skippah." Private brought up.
"I know that! That's why I didn't invite her!" The leader replied.
"That's not fair that the Blue Hen can be here but Fred can't." Private frowned. "That's not fair at all!"
Skipper sighed. Why was he getting such a headache from this event?
"Private is certainly right." Blowhole of all animals decided to add HIS input. He was sitting in the seat next to Skipper. Something the commander had tried to ignore until now… "That isn't fair in the le-e-east!"
"Oh butt out Blowhole huh?" Skipper whined.
The dolphin huffed. "I was just trying to help-"
"SHUSH!" Skipper yelled then turned to the analyst. "Escort her out of here Kowalski so Fred can get on back to his tree."
"Escort?!" Kowalski exclaimed and whined in protest. "Skipperrr!"
"Now. Go on." Skipper waved them off.
Kowalski got up from his seat and grumbled, starting to go out. "Come on." He huffed for her to follow.
Skipper watched them go and sighed. "Alright Private now you escort out Fred so he can go home." He looked up to an empty podium. "Where'd he go?"
"Ohh these look nice!" Fred was over at the food table, filling a plate. Which he obviously couldn't leave until he finished it.
Skipper growled. He was ready to just throw the squirrel out and lock the doors of the building. Fred would either find his way on back to Central Park or die trying…
Of course Private had to play on the leader's heart strings. "It must be hard scavenging for food through such a big park all the time. It's so nice you're letting him stay a bit longer to fill his belly."
"Yeah…" Skipper rolled his eyes. "Nice…"
Out in the hallway of the funeral home they had commandeered for the night for Han's funeral, Kowalski was trying to usher the hen towards the doors.
"Such a shame you can't stay, I'm as stricken by this disappointment as you are believe me, goodbye!" Kowalski said in sarcasm, pushing her to the door.
"Now BAWK BAWK back up!" The Blue Hen turned around to face him. "I still didn't give you my warning!"
"Yeaaah I don't care." Kowalski was going to push her again.
"I'll just come back in!"
"I'll lock all the doors." The analyst huffed.
"Then I'll find another way." The hen said. "Wouldn't you rather just hear what I have to say so I can leave already? I have a train to catch to Delaware! I can't get on it without a clear conscience."
"Clear conscience?" Kowalski questioned. Since when did she care about patching things up with him?
"Do you want to hear it or not?"
"Fine! If it will make you leave at a more rapid pace." The analyst huffed. "Then go on."
The Blue Hen cleared her throat before speaking. "Before you get there your head will soar but you'll end up in a place you've been before!"
"…" Kowalski stared. "…that's it?"
"Hey it rhymed didn't it? Now I'm off to the Delaware!" The Blue Hen put on some shades. "Good luck…You'll need it." She laughed and bawked loud and she was gone out the doors.
Kowalski was still left blinking, wondering what on earth that was all about…
Back in the room where the funeral was being held, Skipper was turning different shades of red as his patience became less and less.
Fred hadn't even STARTED eating his food yet! In fact he wasn't even finished packing his plate. It was stacked high with one of everything…
"Ohhh that looks nice." Fred repeated for the umpteenth time and took a stuffed clam.
"Oh come on! You don't even EAT seafood!" Skipper cried.
"Ew why would I want to see your food?" Fred said. "That completely ruined my appetite. I don't even think I can eat now…"
"GRR!" Skipper growled. "Just take the plate WITH you! We'll pay to replace it or something!"
"Oh there's no need for that Skippah." Private picked up a styrofoam container. "Here's the take out cartons right here-"
Skipper hit Rico in the stomach and caught a blow torch. With it he melted all the styrofoam containers, including the one in Private's flippers. "Oh would you look at that. Looks like you just have to take the plate. Rico escort Private in taking Fred back home."
"Awwwgh." Rico whined and started leading Private and Fred out.
Skipper sighed. Finally some peace and quiet, just how a funeral should be for a soldier.
Very suddenly the doors were pushed open and a giant alligator came rushing to the podium. Roger? "Oh am I too late for my song? There was just so much traffic getting off the highway!"
Skipper groaned. Another invite by Private no doubt. This funeral for Hans was not going AT ALL as planned! It was sloppy and just spelled chaotic in big scaly letters…
Kowalski came back to his seat, sitting down silently in deep thought. Before you get there your head will soar but you'll end up in a place you've been before. What in Einstein's theory could that even mean? He thought as Roger began to sing his song.
Blowhole huffed to himself with crossed fins. "I had wanted to take one of those sty-y-yrofoam containers home..."