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Chicken Little was out one morning walking around town. It was a fine morning, and he decided he wanted a cup of coffee. He wanted one so much could even smell the coffee in the air. So he walked into a local restaurant. But then he stopped and his mouth fell open in horror.
He saw three horses sitting together at a table. Chicken Little didn’t like horses in general, but these were the Three Horses of the Apocalypse. The Three Horses he hated more than any other horses in the whole wide world. The most evil, nastiest, ugliest, horses he had ever seen. Talking. Laughing. Drinking coffee.
Clearly plotting. That’s what horses do: they get together to talk, to laugh, to drink coffee, and to plot. And when horses plot, it means the sky must be falling.
“My, oh, my,” he said to himself. “They’re talking. They’re laughing. They’re drinking coffee. The sky is falling. I can feel it. A piece just hit me! I must run and tell the Weasel about it!”
And Chicken Little skedaddled out of the restaurant as fast as his little legs would carry him while he sent text messages to all his friends.
“They sky is falling!” he texted.
“WTF?” they texted back, but he was too much of a hurry to explain.
As he skittered down the street, Chicken Little met Ratty.
“Where are you going?” asked Ratty, tugging at his faded T-shirt.
“Oh, Ratty,” cried Chicken Little. “The sky is falling. I saw the Three Horses in the coffee shop. Talking. Laughing. Drinking coffee! I am going to Weasel to tell him about it.”
“Talking?” cried Ratty.
“Yes!” said Chicken Little.
“Yes!” said Chicken little, again.
“Yes, yes, yes!” cried Chicken Little, hopping up and down.
“Oh my!” said Ratty.
“Yes! talking. Laughing. Drinking coffee. The sky is falling! A piece of it hit me on the head,” said Chicken Little, pointing to his head. “They’re plotting to make the sky fall down on us!”
“Let me go with you!” said Ratty. “Run, run!”
So the two ran and ran until they meet Daffy Ducky who was walking in circles on the sidewalk, looking at herself in store windows and preening her feathers as she did.
“Where are you two running to?” asked Daffy Ducky.
“The sky is falling,” cried Ratty. “We are going to Weasel to tell him about it.”
“How do you know that?” asked Daffy Ducky.
“It hit Chicken Little on the head,” said Ratty. Daffy Duck’s eyes widened and she flapped her wings in fright.
“May I come with you?” asked Daffy Ducky.
“Come,” replied Ratty. “But hurry. The Three Horsemen were seen talking. And laughing.”
“And drinking coffee!” added Chicken Little.
“Oh my!” exclaimed Daffy Ducky. “Talking? Laughing? Drinking coffee?”
“Yes!” the other two replied.
“The end is near!” squawked Daffy Ducky, and she waddled after the two as they hurried down the street.
All three of them ran on and on until they meet Sammy Serpent who was about to slither into town hall.
“Where are you three going in such a hurry?” he asked as they rushed up.
“The sky is falling!” cried Daffy Ducky. “We are going to Weasel to tell him about it,”
“I have vast experience in sky watching. I was head of a sky watching association, once. Let me check.” Sammy Serpent looked up at the sky. “It looks okay to me. Are you sure? ”
“Of course we are!” said Daffy Ducky. “Chicken Little says so. A piece of it fell on him!”
“He saw the Three Horsemen of the Apocalypse!” added Ratty. “They were talking.”
“And laughing!” added Daffy Ducky.
“And drinking coffee!” shouted Chicken Little.
“Oh my!” said Sammy Serpent. “Talking? and laughing?”
“Yes!” cried the three.
“And drinking coffee?”
“Yes!” they cried again.
“Then the sky must surely be falling!” said Sammy Serpent nervously. “I’m surprised it’s not raining pieces right now. Let me come with you!”
So the four of them ran over to Weasel’s house and knocked. Weasel met them at the door. “Why are the four of you here and looking so worried?”
“The sky is falling!” said Sammy Serpent.
“A piece of it hit Chicken Little. See? he has a bump on his head!” added Daffy Ducky, waving her tail feathers at her reflection in the living room window. “it’s all going to come down any moment now!”
“The Three Horses of the Apocalypse are plotting to destroy the whole town!” added Ratty, out of breath from the exertion of walking up the stairs. “We’re all doomed!”
“Are you sure?” asked Weasel.
“Yes!” cried Chicken Little, flapping his little wings anxiously. “I saw them myself. They were in a restaurant. Talking. Laughing. Drinking coffee!”
“Talking?” asked Weasel, looking concerned.
“Yes!” the four cried together.
“That means they were up to no good.” Weasel rubbed his face nervously, and thought a moment. “And laughing, you say?”
“Yes!” cried the four.
“That means they were laughing at us. Making fun of you and me and everyone in this town. Vile creatures! This is serious,” Weasel said, pacing the front porch. “And drinking coffee?”
“Yes!” cried the four.
“Ah ha! They were plotting!” Weasel cried and shook his fist in the air. “No doubt about it. They caused last winter to be so cold it frozen my pipes. They caused the water levels in the lake to drop so low. They caused the price of gasoline to climb so high, too. And now they’re plotting to make the sky fall. It’s all happening as I predicted it would!”
“Yes, yes, yes!” cried the four.
“Thank you for bringing this to me, friends, but I have to leave you now” Weasel said to them, straightening up. “The world is about to end and I must go inside and blog about it. Everyone needs to know that the sky is falling and who caused it. It is my duty to tell them about the Three Horses of the Apocalypse and how they are causing the end of the world as we know it. Goodbye!”
And Weasel slipped back inside and left the four standing on his front porch looking at the closed door. Chicken Little took out his phone. The rest did, too.
“I’m tweeting #skyisfalling. You?” he asked as he tapped on the screen. “I’ll post it on Facebook, too.”
“Hashtag-threehorsesofapocalypse,” said Ratty, tapping away. “How do you spell apocalypse?”
“Mine is #coffeeplotting,” said Daffy Ducky. “I’ll send one to the police so they can start investigating.”
I’m using #chickenlittleisright,” said Sammy Snake. “I’m sending one to the CBC, too.”
Then, when they were all done and pout their phones away, they stood quietly for a moment while looking at the sky. it wasn’t falling. Finally, Chicken Little broke the silence. “Well, that was a good day’s work and it’s still morning. Lots of time left before the sky caves in completely. Anyone want to come downtown with me and see who else is plotting? I could use a coffee, too.”
And with that, the four started walking back to town.
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