The sun beat down on Corporal Niel as he squinted and examined what appeared to be an empty field with the occasional tree thrown in here and there for no apparent reason. Niel was a proud member of the Royal Canadian Mounted Police, having served as a canine specialist for many years. He and his ace dog Radar were currently investigating what Niel was quickly determining to be a prank call that suggested that there was some kind of disturbance going on not far from this place.

As Radar sniffed about, finding nothing besides a couple of rather funny looking squirrels, Niel began to ponder just what exactly amounted to a disturbance around these parts of the land of Canada. There are all sorts of things that could be considered disturbing, he thought to himself. Niel remembered the last time he tried to clean out his refrigerator. Now THAT was disturbing. His face slowly contorted as he recalled the half-eaten peanut butter and relish sandwich that was sitting behind the ketchup, next to the mustard and slightly to the left of the mayonnaise. Anymore, about the only thing that was even mildly disturbing about his work was the not occasional enough moose that would happen to find its way into someone's yard and accidentally eat a couple of children before it realized that such actions were not becoming of a moose.

Radar lifted his head and cocked it slightly to the right as he tried to recognize the scent that was creeping its way into his hairy snout. The dog simply stood and thoughtfully looked neither here nor there until he finally decided that the scent that was teasing him was not entirely unlike bagpipe. It had been some time since Radar had ever encountered anything remotely like a bagpipe, and he would be lucky to identify the sound, much less the scent of the instrument, but he was almost positive that there was a hint of bagpipe in the air.

The animal scanned the tree lines to the left and to the right of him and saw nothing out of the ordinary outside of a few squirrels that had gathered inside a small circle of stones in what appeared to be a Druidic ritual. Radar stared intently at the mysterious woodland creatures and soon abandoned any attempts to find rhyme or reason behind the behavior, especially since he saw not one bagpipe among the lot. He lifted his nose to the air and before he could get a strong sense of what exactly the scent was, he felt a tug on his harness and all concentration was lost.

"Not much here, eh? Looks like another o dem prank calls, doncha-no. Lets get back to base, eh?" Niel had pretty much given up on the excursion when he noticed that his furry little buddy was not about to let him go anywhere. Niel tugged again on the harness that kept his partner in line and realized that there was something rather important that had caught the attention of his dog. He peered off in the direction that Radar was facing and heard a sound that he was certain was not a good thing. There was a low rumbling, accompanied by the repetitive whap that could only be made by thousands of chickens on the march with full armor and artillery support, and above it all was the sound of a kazoo gone horribly awry, but wait, no, it was something that sounded not entirely unlike...

Briac smiled and cast a menacing glance over his chicken minions as they marched in perfect formation around him and his special edition Hummer with the Thunderchicken emblem painted on the side. (Item #826491 order yours today) The chickens had trained many long months for this moment, when they would march against the Mounties and from there, they would begin their campaign against the world. Briac tossed a glance toward the front of his army of perfect beings and noted that the bagpipe brigade was having quite a bit of trouble keeping up. That was understandable, for the poor fowl only had a few weeks to prepare for this strike due to some major shipping problems. Apparently, not many people take your orders seriously when you have the phrase 'Lord of the Chickens' printed on your address labels. Even a proud chicken such as Briac had to admit that the noise from the dozen or so bagpipe laden chickens could only be described as horrific. And yet there was a bit of irony to the noise, so disruptive and almost fear inducing, just as the chickens were to become. The supreme ruler of all chickens saw a spec on the horizon and instantly saw the obnoxious red uniform topped with the rather silly hat that made the Mounties so easy to spot. He grinned and picked up the megaphone that always sat by his side, calling out to his soldiers, "Hold on to your tits, Mabel. It's time to have some fun."

Niel shuddered as he heard the bagpipes creeping ever closer, accompanied by the rumble that seethed trouble. Over a rise to the west, he saw what had to be the most mind numbing sight imaginable...a baby deer, it's huge blue eyes boring a hole straight through his brain. Niel gasped and turned northward, where he saw yet another sign that this was not going to be his day. Chickens by the score were appearing from nowhere, and every one of them appeared armed to the teeth, and ready to cause some serious damage. Behind them loomed the armor and artillery that he so feared. It took a second for Niel to register this sight, for he was pretty sure that this was definitely not usual chicken behavior. He even took a moment to turn to Radar and spout, "Hey, chickens don't drive tanks!" His partner could do nothing more than sniff the air and pant a bit, getting drool on his front paws. (You honestly didn't expect him to understand, did you?)

Twitchy looked at the new flashing light with a whimsical, confused expression on his face. The light had never done much of anything before and he was pretty certain that he didn't do anything to trigger any action in the light. Twitchy poked and tinkered with the light, wondering why it had felt like finally doing something and what it might have had to say. After many well spent seconds of pointless effort, he finally gave up and went back to his job of pressing buttons in the vain hope that one of them would bring him more beer.

Gunther and Shawnyboy were back in the war room, finalizing their preparations on their mobilization of the drunken monkey army. The two had been arguing over maps and charts for quite some time and tension had finally come to a bit of a head when Shawnyboy whacked Gunther in the head with a rolled up chart, pointed at a map and screamed, "There are no Mounties in Germany, Dammit!!" Just as Gunther was about to come back with a clever retort, the intercom came on and a mysterious distress message that most certainly had something to do with Twitchy and his mystical light came booming into the room.

"You're not going to believe this, but there are chickens, thousands of them, and they are attacking the Royal Canadian Mounted Police. They're EVERYWHERE, and they've got bagpipes!! Please help us!! We cannot keep them back much...NO!! AAARRRRHHHGGGGGHHHH!!!" Once the scream finally faded away into silence, or at least was taken to a void not far from where they keep all the extras, Gunther looked down at the table with anger flowing through his veins, no wait, that was alcohol, but there was anger in there somewhere. A look of determination washed over the inebriated simian and he turned to Shawnyboy, quietly saying, "I think it's about time we killed some chickens."