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Birds of a Feather
"It's an outrage! And I demand my rights be respected!"
"You're not gonna let it go, are you?"
"Why should I?"
"Why shouldn't you?"
"Really, Penny? You're gonna stand there with you teeth in your mouth—"
"We're chickens, Gwen. We don't have teeth."
"Don't change the subject! 'Cause I cannot believe you're actually saying I should forgive Harold!"
"I'm not saying that. I'm saying it doesn't do you any good to keep harping on it."
"Harping? Penny, he tried to kill me!"
"He's a fox. That's what foxes do."
"No! I won't accept that!"
"Always the crusader, aren't you?"
"Well? What's wrong with that?"
"Other than it getting your throat torn out, y'mean?"
"That hardly ever happens to anybody!"
"It only hasta happen once."
"But it won't! Because we're living in a civilized society!"
"A civilized— Gwen, we're scratching for bugs and worms in a farmyard! The roosters have exactly one thing on their tiny, pea-like minds, and the only halfway interesting folks who stop by are the foxes who want to kill us and eat us! I mean, if we're lucky, wunna those big featherless bastards'll come along with a bucket of corn for us, and if we're unlucky, it'll be an axe instead of a bucket! Civilization, this isn't!"
"Yeesh, Penny! Keep it down, will you?"
"Why? So you won't be embarrassed in front of your carnivore friends?"
"Who's the crusader now?"
"Don't go there, Gwen."
"I'm just saying—"
"You're just saying you'll trust a wild animal who'd sooner tear your head off than look at you! That's what you're just saying!"
"Okay, now, Penny, let's unruffle our feathers and chill a little, shall we?"
"It's just— You're so naive, Gwen! Always insisting on your rights!"
"And what's wrong with that?"
"We're chickens! We have exactly two rights! The right to eat and the right to die!"
"We can lay eggs, too."
"If I had eyebrows, Gwen, you would so be getting one arched at you."
"Whadda you want me to say, Penny? That it sucks being a chicken?"
"No, I want to you face reality. Being a chicken neither sucks nor...whatever the opposite of sucks is."
"Ummm, lemme think."
"Forget it! The word doesn't matter because being a chicken isn't good or bad. It just is. And the sooner you accept that, the better!"
"'It just is'? That doesn't make any sense."
"Exactly. Reality doesn't make sense. It's just a place where everybody you're ever likely to meet wants to kill you and eat you."
"Hmmph! Well, this reality of yours sounds like an awful place, and I'll have nothing to do with it!"
"Gwen—"
"I mean it, Penny! 'Cause, sure, maybe Harold's a fox and maybe he can't help trying to kill me. But it's also possible that he was having a bad day and gnashed his teeth and I overreacted and panicked and caught my foot on the top of the fence when I flew back into the farmyard!"
"Excuse me?"
"I'm just saying that's possible."
"That's exactly what happened, isn't it?"
"Maybe..."
"So you're saying that all the shouting you did and the accusations and the— Gwen, I swear sometimes I could kill you, too!"
"Then you are saying I should forgive Harold."
"I'm saying I need new friends. Has Harold got a brother?"
"You're not gonna let it go, are you?"
"Why should I?"
"Why shouldn't you?"
"Really, Penny? You're gonna stand there with you teeth in your mouth—"
"We're chickens, Gwen. We don't have teeth."
"Don't change the subject! 'Cause I cannot believe you're actually saying I should forgive Harold!"
"I'm not saying that. I'm saying it doesn't do you any good to keep harping on it."
"Harping? Penny, he tried to kill me!"
"He's a fox. That's what foxes do."
"No! I won't accept that!"
"Always the crusader, aren't you?"
"Well? What's wrong with that?"
"Other than it getting your throat torn out, y'mean?"
"That hardly ever happens to anybody!"
"It only hasta happen once."
"But it won't! Because we're living in a civilized society!"
"A civilized— Gwen, we're scratching for bugs and worms in a farmyard! The roosters have exactly one thing on their tiny, pea-like minds, and the only halfway interesting folks who stop by are the foxes who want to kill us and eat us! I mean, if we're lucky, wunna those big featherless bastards'll come along with a bucket of corn for us, and if we're unlucky, it'll be an axe instead of a bucket! Civilization, this isn't!"
"Yeesh, Penny! Keep it down, will you?"
"Why? So you won't be embarrassed in front of your carnivore friends?"
"Who's the crusader now?"
"Don't go there, Gwen."
"I'm just saying—"
"You're just saying you'll trust a wild animal who'd sooner tear your head off than look at you! That's what you're just saying!"
"Okay, now, Penny, let's unruffle our feathers and chill a little, shall we?"
"It's just— You're so naive, Gwen! Always insisting on your rights!"
"And what's wrong with that?"
"We're chickens! We have exactly two rights! The right to eat and the right to die!"
"We can lay eggs, too."
"If I had eyebrows, Gwen, you would so be getting one arched at you."
"Whadda you want me to say, Penny? That it sucks being a chicken?"
"No, I want to you face reality. Being a chicken neither sucks nor...whatever the opposite of sucks is."
"Ummm, lemme think."
"Forget it! The word doesn't matter because being a chicken isn't good or bad. It just is. And the sooner you accept that, the better!"
"'It just is'? That doesn't make any sense."
"Exactly. Reality doesn't make sense. It's just a place where everybody you're ever likely to meet wants to kill you and eat you."
"Hmmph! Well, this reality of yours sounds like an awful place, and I'll have nothing to do with it!"
"Gwen—"
"I mean it, Penny! 'Cause, sure, maybe Harold's a fox and maybe he can't help trying to kill me. But it's also possible that he was having a bad day and gnashed his teeth and I overreacted and panicked and caught my foot on the top of the fence when I flew back into the farmyard!"
"Excuse me?"
"I'm just saying that's possible."
"That's exactly what happened, isn't it?"
"Maybe..."
"So you're saying that all the shouting you did and the accusations and the— Gwen, I swear sometimes I could kill you, too!"
"Then you are saying I should forgive Harold."
"I'm saying I need new friends. Has Harold got a brother?"
[This story was read during our fic-reading event in the Discord chat (a recording of which will probably be available soon). This review will be a combination of my own thoughts on the story and what other people in the chat were saying about it.]
You pulled off an all-dialogue story very well. Personally, I think that this is a conversation I could imagine some chickens having. I'm not really left with a whole lot more to say, though. Definitely not a bad story, though perhaps not spectacular.
You pulled off an all-dialogue story very well. Personally, I think that this is a conversation I could imagine some chickens having. I'm not really left with a whole lot more to say, though. Definitely not a bad story, though perhaps not spectacular.
This may not have been an incredibly deep musing about human nature or a touching story, but it made my day. The fact that the story was all dialogue helped a lot in my opinion. That the characters are chickens, and that they are aware (or at least one of them is) of their "place" in the grand scheme of things, really sells the whole concept. Add to this that tone and delivery were spot on and I don't have much to say about it aside from great job.
Another silly story is silly. Possibly sillier.
Clever and unusual take on a story. Dialog only is an unusual choice, but it worked here. The characters and subject were amusing, though some of the language used was a little distracting. (wunna comes to mind).
My favorite line: "Hmmph! Well, this reality of yours sounds like an awful place, and I'll have nothing to do with it!"
I'm not really sure I buy Gwen's change of mind there at the end, but whatever. The story made me chuckle.
Clever and unusual take on a story. Dialog only is an unusual choice, but it worked here. The characters and subject were amusing, though some of the language used was a little distracting. (wunna comes to mind).
My favorite line: "Hmmph! Well, this reality of yours sounds like an awful place, and I'll have nothing to do with it!"
I'm not really sure I buy Gwen's change of mind there at the end, but whatever. The story made me chuckle.
You're gonna stand there with you teeth in your mouth Missing r here.
The dialogue is funny, though sometimes a bit hard to follow because we can easily get lost between the two hens in the absence of an occasional tag. Yet tags would've made the whole piece much heavier. That’s where script style comes to the fore.
Otherwise, it's silly enough, in a playful way. The dialogue is snappy. Nice recreational piece, but it would really come to its own if used for a video.
And, oh, do chicken have feet?
The dialogue is funny, though sometimes a bit hard to follow because we can easily get lost between the two hens in the absence of an occasional tag. Yet tags would've made the whole piece much heavier. That’s where script style comes to the fore.
Otherwise, it's silly enough, in a playful way. The dialogue is snappy. Nice recreational piece, but it would really come to its own if used for a video.
And, oh, do chicken have feet?
>>Monokeras
I haven't read this story, but I noticed Mono's question:
Yes. There are not many animals for which we don't say "foot", to be honest, even if it's something else as well (like a paw). But for birds, "talons" mostly describes the nails. Unless we want to be weird like MLP is about Spike not having hands (which he does), that is.
I haven't read this story, but I noticed Mono's question:
And, oh, do chicken have feet?
Yes. There are not many animals for which we don't say "foot", to be honest, even if it's something else as well (like a paw). But for birds, "talons" mostly describes the nails. Unless we want to be weird like MLP is about Spike not having hands (which he does), that is.
>>Trick_Question
Well, I thought chickens had claws rather than feet.
In French, we have a specific word, patte, that fits about every kind of animal, and when used for humans, has a colloquial/slang connotation, somewhat like ‘mitt’. Ex: (patois)Tire tes pattes d'tes fattes → “Pull your mitts out of your pockets”
I haven't read this story, but I noticed Mono's question:And, oh, do chicken have feet?
Yes.
Well, I thought chickens had claws rather than feet.
In French, we have a specific word, patte, that fits about every kind of animal, and when used for humans, has a colloquial/slang connotation, somewhat like ‘mitt’. Ex: (patois)Tire tes pattes d'tes fattes → “Pull your mitts out of your pockets”
>>Monokeras
In English, the claws are only the nails of the foot. For birds of prey, they're called talons. But in all birds, it's called a "foot". There's no special word for it at all. Birds gots feets.
Or rare occasion one might refer to the whole foot as a claw or as talons, but it's not common. With talons it's when they're being used as graspers; with claw, I've only heard it for chickens when referring to the foot as a culinary ingredient (but even there it's usually foot instead).
The foot ends at the first sharp bend (ankle?—this one I don't know), and connects to the tarsus of the leg.
In English, the claws are only the nails of the foot. For birds of prey, they're called talons. But in all birds, it's called a "foot". There's no special word for it at all. Birds gots feets.
Or rare occasion one might refer to the whole foot as a claw or as talons, but it's not common. With talons it's when they're being used as graspers; with claw, I've only heard it for chickens when referring to the foot as a culinary ingredient (but even there it's usually foot instead).
The foot ends at the first sharp bend (ankle?—this one I don't know), and connects to the tarsus of the leg.
In most stories, at least some of the words will appear outside of quotation marks. Now, you can try to skip them, but while that makes the writing easier, it's a much, much higher degree of difficulty to do well and still pull it off. Regrettably, this is true for most gimmicks that make writing easier—if they weren't so hard to use properly, they'd be much more common in literature.
The narrative in script form was telly and even a little author-tractish in the middle (but that lightened up at the end, which was good). In this case, I actually believe the story would be improved even by just adding "said A" and "said B" after every line, even as repetitive as that is. I read this in my head as rapid-fire vaudeville, which isn't likely what you'd intended. I also ended up inadvertently skimming it rather than reading in places because of the lack of non-quoted markers.
Unrelated: who stands there with teeth in their mouth?
The narrative in script form was telly and even a little author-tractish in the middle (but that lightened up at the end, which was good). In this case, I actually believe the story would be improved even by just adding "said A" and "said B" after every line, even as repetitive as that is. I read this in my head as rapid-fire vaudeville, which isn't likely what you'd intended. I also ended up inadvertently skimming it rather than reading in places because of the lack of non-quoted markers.
Unrelated: who stands there with teeth in their mouth?
The all-dialogue format here is masking a problem: your characters switch viewpoints.
At the start of the story, you have Gwen complaining that the fox tried to kill her, and Penny telling her to stop harping on it. Then after Penny starts agitating for chicken rights, Penny says:
… so (at least in Penny's summation) the problem is that Gwen is trusting the fox, that she's got "carnivore friends". Which is reasonable in the context of Gwen saying that getting her throat ripped out by a predator "hardly ever happens to anybody!", but not in the context of the argument you started the story with. So I'm really not sure whether Gwen's pro-fox or anti-fox here, which robs the ending of its punch.
Between that and the lack of distinctive character characteristics, the talking-heads format here was a fatiguing read. Points for at least injecting the names at regular intervals, but I can't say that this did a lot for me.
Tier: Almost There
At the start of the story, you have Gwen complaining that the fox tried to kill her, and Penny telling her to stop harping on it. Then after Penny starts agitating for chicken rights, Penny says:
"You're just saying you'll trust a wild animal who'd sooner tear your head off than look at you! That's what you're just saying!"
… so (at least in Penny's summation) the problem is that Gwen is trusting the fox, that she's got "carnivore friends". Which is reasonable in the context of Gwen saying that getting her throat ripped out by a predator "hardly ever happens to anybody!", but not in the context of the argument you started the story with. So I'm really not sure whether Gwen's pro-fox or anti-fox here, which robs the ending of its punch.
Between that and the lack of distinctive character characteristics, the talking-heads format here was a fatiguing read. Points for at least injecting the names at regular intervals, but I can't say that this did a lot for me.
Tier: Almost There
This managed to fit a lot of dialogue into a small space by being an all-dialogue story, and it worked decently enough as we got an idea of what was going on and didn’t really need to know more about the scenery and surroundings than we were told.
The biggest problem with this story was the fact that the two characters didn’t end up feeling like they had particularly distinctive voicing, and in the end, I’m not quite sure what is going on with the foxes. Are the chickens and foxes the only intelligent creatures in their world? I'm not quite sure.
The biggest problem with this story was the fact that the two characters didn’t end up feeling like they had particularly distinctive voicing, and in the end, I’m not quite sure what is going on with the foxes. Are the chickens and foxes the only intelligent creatures in their world? I'm not quite sure.
Thanks, folks!
>>Trick_Question, you got it exactly right when you called this a vaudeville routine. I spent the first 12 hours of the writing period researching double sestinas and reformulating the rules for how they worked 'cause the first thing you realize when you research double sestinas is that no one agrees on how to write one. I then wrote the first stanza--on some heavy and turgid subject that I don't even remember now--only to discover that, while a regular sestina's about 250 words long, a double sestina is actually a quadruple sestina. So the thing was going to end up over a thousand words long. That's when I shifted my aim toward something zippy and depthless, and this is what came out.
I did try for a reversal with the chickens changing their minds on the subject during the course of their little talk, but it'd need more work to pull that off. Oh, and >>The_Letter_J, you made my week by saying you could imagine chickens having this conversation. 'Cause verisimilitude is ever my goal in fiction writing. :)
Congrats to our winners! See y'all next time!
Mike
>>Trick_Question, you got it exactly right when you called this a vaudeville routine. I spent the first 12 hours of the writing period researching double sestinas and reformulating the rules for how they worked 'cause the first thing you realize when you research double sestinas is that no one agrees on how to write one. I then wrote the first stanza--on some heavy and turgid subject that I don't even remember now--only to discover that, while a regular sestina's about 250 words long, a double sestina is actually a quadruple sestina. So the thing was going to end up over a thousand words long. That's when I shifted my aim toward something zippy and depthless, and this is what came out.
I did try for a reversal with the chickens changing their minds on the subject during the course of their little talk, but it'd need more work to pull that off. Oh, and >>The_Letter_J, you made my week by saying you could imagine chickens having this conversation. 'Cause verisimilitude is ever my goal in fiction writing. :)
Congrats to our winners! See y'all next time!
Mike