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... right. So, when I was reasonably small, like 3rd & 4th grade, our family acquired chickens. And since Tay-Tay and I had no TV to get distracted by and ramble on about, we found our own entertainment.

The Professor Chipmunk Stories were works of serial verbal fanfiction, essentially, although they were technically original as there wasn't a media source. Real People Fiction, then, because the universe was populated not by imaginary characters, but by ... people ... we knew. People. Yeah.

...So yes, there were these RPF tales about one of our roosters teaching classes in an elementary or high school (with chickens, it's hard to tell), where my hen Calico was really his wife and also the principal of the school, and they had a daughter (Original Character!!) named Chalkley, and she went to school there.

Chalkley was gorgeous. I think she may have been all white? She definitely had a white hackle, with beautiful soft feathers, and great dark eyes, unlike her irascible mother's spotted hackle and glaring orange eyes, and her father's brown/black/gold partridge coloring. Hi, Special Genetics. Nice to meet you. Despite the fact that the stories were in theory about her father, Professor Chipmunk, Chalkley stole the show. It was all about her, and how she was the Special Child of two important characters at the school, and how even though she was incredibly gorgeous and smart, she still had a hard time with other chicks pecking on her. So when she got pecked on by the bad boys, she would tell Professor Chipmunk, and Professor Chipmunk would tell Principal Calico, and Principal Calico would put on her "pecking aid" (!?!? basically a prosthetic beak OF PAIN AND FEAR) and peck the bad boys severely.

... I think I'm very glad that these stories were oral tradition only, because Chalkley is the first and worst Mary Sue that I have ever written, and I don't really want to ever see evidence of it beyond what I can piece together from memory.
Gone away, gone ahead,
Echoes roll unanswered.
Empty, open, dusty, dead.
Why have all the Weyrfolk fled?

Where have dragons gone together
Leaving weyrs to wind and weather,
Setting herdbeasts free of tether;
Gone, our safeguards, gone, but whither?

Have they flown to some new weyr
Where cruel Threads some others fear?
Are they worlds away from here?
Why, oh why the empty weyr?

-- "The Question Song", Anne McCaffrey
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