Briac stared in disbelief at the phone for a short while, pondering if it was staring back in disbelief as well. He clenched his wing around the poor communications utensil and he cursed the God of the Drunken Monkeys. Blasted monkey!! How dare he hang up so rudely on the Lord of the Chickens! He was Briac damnit, and once Thunderchicken was complete, no soul in all the world would dare hang up on him without a proper farewell. In fact, once he ruled the world, Briac would finally be respected by everybody, he would command not only the chickens, but those snot-nosed ducks, and the geese, and those pretentious swans, damn waterfowl; he would show them!!! "EXTRA!!" Briac bellowed from the darkness of his bowels (eewwww), "Where is my extra?!"

From the ooze of nothingness where extras spend their lives playing solitaire and the occasional game of 'got your nose,' came extra #5123. He dashed across the chicken compound and stopped beside his mighty leader, puffing up his plumage with the hope that he could earn a name and perhaps even a place in the Thunderchicken Saga. Briac looked at the newcomer and smiled, "Good, you will do nicely. Now...DON'T MOVE!!!" 5123 took a deep breath and awaited the lofty order that was sure to follow, the order that would give him a place in our story and would save him from the dozens of losing games of got your nose. He so hated got your nose, especially when you play with a bunch of other chickens and nobody really has a nose. They all try to argue and say that since they don't really have a nose to begin with, then how the hell did 5123 get their nose. The extra stopped his daydreaming and stood at attention, only to notice that Briac was nowhere to be seen.

Gunther gave the intercom a gentle poke, expecting it to giggle a little. Intercoms are known to be very ticklish, but apparently this time the giggling was not to be, however it did give a rather contented beep before the voice of Twitchy, the head of the Drunken Monkey Communications department came over the line. "Dude?" Gunther loudly proclaimed, "Get me the Swiss Weasels on the line, we need help with this while Thunderchicken thing, oh, and get another keg in here right away, a keg and some cookies." Twitchy thought silently for a moment before asking, "Thunderchicken, wasn't that the purple thing?" Shawnyboy sighed and growled, "No, it isn't purple, just do as you were told." Twitchy cackled something about winning the office pool into the intercom and a few moments later, there was a loud click and a new voice came over the intercom. The new voice was melodic and pleasant, and it made a quiet yet firm request, "Amway products, how may I be of service?" Gunther sighed as he pondered the true usefulness of Twitchy, then he thought for a moment, "Do you sell beer?" The voice on the phone uttered a confused, "No, but we have a pretty alcoholic mouthwash." Gunther shrugged and ordered a case before static took over the intercom. Seconds later, a new, sterner voice came over the intercom, a booming voice that caused pictures to fall and beer mugs to shatter. The voice informed all that could stand to listen that the weasels were on parade and that they were unable to help with any major world crises at this particular moment in time. But if the caller would gladly leave a message then he might feel a little better about things. Gunther did as instructed and surprisingly did feel remarkably better after talking to the machine. He turned to Shawnyboy and said, "Looks like we go it alone on this one, the Weasels are on parade."