Why Ed Harding (Nasedo) loves chicken
Rating: PG
Fandom: Roswell
Category: Gen - Ed Harding (Nasedo)
Disclaimer: The Great Big Chicken In The Sky has spoken. Ed/Nasedo and the other characters don't belong to me but to Jason Katims and his whole potato crew. No infringement intended.
Note: Please do not archive elsewhere without permission. Spoilers for White Room. I got blindsided by this bit of silliness while I was driving aimlessly around town and it followed me all the way home. Agent Extra Crispy (*Maria*) and Agent Silent Feather (Anthony), this one's for you guys.
Archive Date: 6/29/2000
Eagle Rock Military Base is a frantic hive of activity. FBI agents with top secret clearance, molecular biologists and intelligence officers stride down its halls, their steps ringing with purpose.
The Earthlings finally receive concrete proof of the existence of extraterrestrials. They capture two of them from an alien craft that crash landed outside the Roswell, New Mexico desert. One is slumbering, heavily sedated in a prep area while the other is quarantined in a White Room, being subjected to loads of inhuman tests. Screams permeate throughout the White Room.
The slumbering alien wakes up gradually, feeling groggy and disoriented. He finds himself lying on a gurney, tied securely on to it by industrial strength metal straps.
“Hmmmm, this is interesting,” the alien mutters to himself. He runs a hand through the locks securing the straps. They fall away easily. He pushes himself up from the gurney and gingerly steps on the cold tile floor.
The door in the prep room is also barred. Through a small glass window on the door, the alien peeks out into the corridor. Two agents are stationed outside. One of them is standing at attention, alertly watching for signs of trouble. The other agent is sitting on a chair, happily munching on lunch: a box full of chicken and a small container of mashed potatoes.
“You shouldn’t be eating while we’re on watch,” the standing agent, Agent Wishbone tells the his partner. “What are they going to do, arrest me for eating lunch? Besides, we’ve been standing guard over this alien for almost 12 hours without a break. I’m hungry,” the sitting agent, Agent Drumstick replies.
“Yeah, well, hurry it up. You don’t want to get caught by Agent X chowing down on that thing,” Mr. WB instructs.
The alien stares at Agent DS as he hurriedly chows down on his food. “The brown looking thing he’s putting into his mouth looks good. And that mushy yellow mess also looks good. Strangely inviting! I want whatever’s he eating!” A rumbling in his intestines signals the alien that he is low on energy. He really wants to sample Earth cuisine. “Okay, I’m going for it,” he says to himself.
The alien disables the locks on the door and slowly opens it. An alarm sounds and red lights flash. Agent WB sees the open door and rushes towards it. Agent DS, almost choking on a piece of chicken leg, also rushes forth. Suddenly a myriad of agents coming running towards the prep room.
They subdue the alien who is fighting hard to get free. Alas, ten agents was no match for a weakened alien. They strap him back down on the gurney and wheel him into the White Room.
Agent X stands over the alien, smiling evilly. “So, you’ve decided to join us. Good. Your friend was not too cooperative.” The alien’s eyes widen, wondering what these Earthlings had in store for him. He looks around the White Room and finds Agent WB and Agent DS standing in a corner of the room.
His intestines rumble as images of that tasty looking brown thing Agent DS put in his mouth flash through his mind again Subconsciously, the alien licks his lips.
Agent X follows the alien’s gaze as it rests on Agent DS. Agent X sees crumbs of crispy chicken skin still hanging by Agent DS’ lapel.
“Ahhhhh, so you get hungry too. What other human urges do you have, I wonder?” Agent X cackles. Agent X goes to Agent DS and instructs him to bring the tub of chicken back into the White Room.
Agent X holds up the bucket of chicken, waving it tantalizingly before the alien’s eyes. The alien’s eyes widen and he licks his lips again.
“You want a piece of this chicken?” Agent X takes out a chicken leg and waves the rest of it towards the hungry ET. He crunches on it and the moist juices spill out of his mouth.
“Well, you’re going to have to tell me something first. One question answered means one bite for you,” he explains. “What is the name of your home planet?”
Despite his hunger, the alien refuses to say anything, firmly closing his lips.
“Fine, we’ll do this the hard way,” Agent X smirks. He takes another large bite of the chicken leg and slowly savors in front of the alien. “Oh, this tastes so good. Ummm, yummy!”
The alien strains against his straps, pulling it this way and that but his weakened and hungry state leave him only exhausted.
“Let’s try this again,” Agent X takes out a chicken breast. “I’ll give you this breast if you give me the name of your home planet.” “No? Okay. He throws the chicken breast to his assistant who munches on it hungrily.
The alien’s intestines rumble and he shoots a glaring look at Agent X, thinking, “You guys are gonna fry! Just waiting under I get my palms on all of you!”
Agent X sees the killing look bestowed by the alien at him. “Got chicken? Oops, no, I forgot, you don’t. I have the chicken.” He motions to an assistant to bring him virtual reality head gear. He dons the VR gear on the alien’s head. “Now let’s see. We’ve got all kinds of chicken for you … if you cooperate. We have … A drumstick (flash picture of a drumstick), a leg (flash picture of a leg), a thigh (flash picture of a thigh), 2 wings (flash picture of 2 wings) and of course, my favorite, a breast (flash picture of a chicken breast, falling down the desert, covered by dirty sand).
“Noooooooooo!” the alien screams. “Ah, we finally got to hear you talk!” Agent X remarks. “I’ll tell you what you want to know, just don’t drop the chicken again,” the alien states.
“You’ve got 10 seconds before I order Agent DS to dump this whole bucket of chicken into the desert. And the mashed potatoes too,” Agent X says evilly.
“Mashed potatoes?” the alien inquires. “These are mashed potatoes,” Agent X shows the alien the yellow mushy stuff.
“No, not the mashed potatoes, too! What are you, some kind of inhuman monster?” the alien squawks.
“Tell me what I need to know and the chicken and spudlings get spared,” Agent X drills him. “Wait, chicken and spudling? Hmmmm, that gives me an idea!” the alien thinks.
“Did you hear what I said? Tell me now or you’ll never see a chicken leg again as long as you live!” Agent X bellows.
Meanwhile, the alien is still intrigued by the idea of the “chicken and the spudling” so he barely pays attention to Agent X’s threats.
“Alright, if you want to do it this way, it’s no skin off my chicken,” Agent X huffs.
“What? What did you say?” the alien reverts his attention back to Agent X.
“The chicken and spudlings are history,” Agent X declares. “No, wait, I’ll tell you the name of my home planet. But only you. And leave the bucket of chicken here.” Agent X motions the other agent to go outside the room sans chicken bucket.
“Alright, I’m waiting,” Agent X states. “Ummmm, first, can I have a piece of the chicken? I’m really hungry. My alien brain works a lot better when it’s fed. I can tell you all sorts of things then,” the alien declares.
“Fine, here,” Agent X shoves a chicken wing at the alien. “I only get a chicken wing? I’ve been traveling half the galaxy and all I get is a chicken wing? At least give me two of them,” the alien wails.
“This is getting us nowhere. Give me the chicken wing back,” Agent X gripes. “No, no, okay, I’ll settle for the wing,” the alien happily states. Agent X hands him the wing which the alien happily munches on. “Uh, how ‘bout some of those mashed potatoes?” the alien requests.
“Okay. Just so you don’t I’m inhuman. Here,” Agent X starts dumping large quantities of the spudlings onto a paper plate.
Meanwhile, two molecular biologists walk in the screening room for the White Room. The screening room has a two way mirror. “What are they doing?” one scientist asks his colleague. The other responds, “Passing the mashed potatoes.” They look at each other simultaneously and leave the room with visions of delicious garlic mashed potatoes on their minds.
In the White Room, the alien grabs the paper plate full of mashed potatoes and throws it at Agent X. “Aaaaah, I can’t see,” the agent screams. The plate of spudlings lands smack dab in the middle of his face and drips all over his new polyester suit. “Nooo, not my suit!” Agent X screams. Having gotten some of his strength back, the alien sprints towards the bucket of chicken, grabs it and hightails it to the door.
Before the alien runs out of the room, he morphs into Agent X. “Ahh, now that my full strength is restored, I can shapeshift into anything! That chicken is really something!”
“Get in there. The alien needs some help. He’s choking on a chicken bone!” the alien as Agent X says. Agents rush in to assist the alien, only to find Agent X vigorously trying to wipe off the mashed potatoes off his new suit. “This is polyester! Do you know how hard it is to get mashed potatoes out of it? Get that damn alien. He’s gonna pay for this! Especially for my dry cleaning bill!”
The agents fan out in all directions, trying to catch up with a shapeshifting, bucket-o-chicken-toting, mashed-potato-eating alien. Alas, they are no match for him. He grabs any agent that comes near him (and his precious bucket) and fries them with a single touch of his palm. When Agent DS confronts him, the alien hesitates. “He was the one who introduced me to this wonderful food. Should I kill him?” When Agent DS looks at the piece of chicken leg the alien held in his other hand, that cinched it. “You’re not getting my damn chicken!” He knocks Agent DS off his feet and sends him flying through the air. Ditto with all the other agents.
“You can’t catch me!” he cackles as he sails out of Eagle Rock Military Base. He cleverly shapeshifts into several forms as he maneuvers his way out of desert and into the town of Roswell.
As he walks down the center of town, he notices a store with the sign “Finger Lickin Good” and a red-and-white chicken basket logo as a basket. “Ahhh, I’ve died and gone to heaven. I mean, Earth. Now I know why I was sent here. To discover all the varieties of this wonderful food called chicken. That is my destiny.” He walks into KFC, all the while smiling.
-End-
HOME ROSWELL FAN FICTION FAN FICTION