Sitting on the wooden porch were two rocking chairs. One empty, one holding a boy sipping from a glass bottle. The porch was a dark brown with authentic wood, which after years suffering through hurricane seasons, had splintered. The boy wore a cap, black and facing the right way. The white fabric hung off his shoulder, made for a man far bigger than he was. Around his waist a plaid red jacket tied itself, followed by tanned pants that reached his knees. The boy focused on his beer and a splinter in his foot he'd gotten from walking barefoot.

Footsteps approached. The boy expected his father home early. He thought quickly, throwing the glass bottle over the neighbors yard. He clenched his teeth when he heard the glass break on the hard fall. The boy finally looked towards the noise of the movement only to find a duck. It was a white duck, classic orange webbed feet. The boy groaned in dismay when he realized he'd panicked for nothing. The duck seemed to have a pattern in his feathers, he looked as if he were wearing a suit.

"Just a stupid duck, ain't ya?" the boy rolled his eyes and hopped off the chair, ignoring the steering pain in his foot from being impaled by another piece of wood. The duck straightened up, seeming to tuck some feathers behind others. "Excuse me, boy. My name is Frank and I insist on entering this establishment."

The boy blinked in confusion. Was the duck speaking to him? "Hello? I believe when someone is speaking to you, you must at least acknowledge them" the duck waved his little wings. Do ducks fly? The boy asked himself. "Sure, come in."

It wasn't like ducks were deadly... right?

The boy lead Frank into the kitchen and grabbed another beer. "Ya want one?" he offered, seeing it was the polite thing to do. "Boy, do I look like I drink?" The duck sauntered and hopped onto his rocking chair in the living room. The feet of the chair moved slowly at the light weight and the duck relaxed. "Well stop callin' me 'boy.' My name is Henry."

"Well if you'd told me that earlier we wouldn't be having this conversation now, would we?" If Frank could have raised an eyebrow- if he even had one- he would. "Why are we havin' a conversation? How are we?" Henry asked, sitting down on the torn brown leather couch. It had been worn down from years of use, the yellow foam just visible.

"Well, you see, I'm leading the chickens in a revolution and seeing as you have the biggest yard in town, I'm going to politely ask to borrow your land."

"Borrow it?" Henry drank from the cold bottle. Maybe I shouldn't drink anymore, he thought, peering at the duck. "And for what revolution?"

"Well the chickens are my brothers and sisters and we're sick of being forced to produce eggs for you all" Frank watched him with careful eyes. "We're going to have a revolution. Attack all of you humans."

"Ain't that- what's the word..? Touristism?" Henry asked. "Terrorism, Henry, and yes. So what?" Frank replied, crossing his bare orange legs. "Why would I let you lead an attack on my kind from my backyard?" The boy put down his bottle. A sharp clank reached his ears when it was set.

"Well I'm only asking, hoping I won't have to take it by force" Frank answered, getting off the rocking chair. Suddenly the duck's beak was looking sharper, like an ax his father had recently built. "No, there's no need for that" Henry leaned back, trying to seem like he wasn't rigid. "Great. I'll help my fellow birds to your home."

"Wait, no, don't-"

The duck pressed a wing to his mouth and blew, emitting a whistle. Flocks of chickens, crows, peacocks, and even pigeons flew in. There were hundreds of them, appearing all at once through the open front door.

"I thought you said just chickens?" Henry glared at the lying duck. "Well as word spread, more birds wanted justice. Who am I to say no to liberty?"

There was no room to move in the house. All Henry could do was pick up his beer. "What are you here for?" He decided to ask the crows. "We're tired of those ugly things you put in the yards. They're awful, those big eyes and hands made of straw! We can't eat next to those hideous things!" The crows complained. "That's the point of them" Henry pointed out. The crows feathers ruffled as they huffed. "Well we want them removed!"

Henry nodded. "What about you?" He decided to ask the pigeons. The smallest gray pigeon spoke up. "Nah, man. We here fo' the drama" he replied casually. "Ain't no reason to rebel, just like the look of it."

"Truly revolutionary," Henry rolled his eyes. "And you? What's wrong with the way we treat you?" He asked the peacocks.

The peacocks stomped on the tiles of the kitchen, forcing brown marks across the floor with mud. "We want our name changed."

Henry blinked. "Oh cuz of the c-"

The pigeon cleared his throat. "Should we commence this meeting in the backyard?" They all looked to Henry expectantly. Henry stared at his beer bottle. I'm definitely never drinking again. "You guys want a beer?"

A creek came from behind him, the distinct sound of metal rubbing on wood. "More birds, are you kiddin-" He turned around and found his father, balding and fattening behind him.

"Boy, what the hell?"

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A/N yeahhhh not really funny but I'm trying to work on my descriptions and having characters do more rather than just dialogue- tips would be great :3