As you can see by the chapter title, my name is Barker Mifflin. You may have noticed me hanging around in a story called The Terror in Jenny’s Armpit. Jenny is a pal of mine who had some trouble with her armpit, so I tried to help her out. I mean, let’s be honest, most eleven-year-olds just aren’t prepared for trouble in their armpit, especially the kind of trouble Jenny was dealing with. It’s times like these when you need someone like me around—but we’ll get to that later. Right now, there’s something a little more pressing I need to tell you.
I’m riding a forty-foot chicken. It’s like riding a horse, only it’s a chicken, and the chicken is forty feet tall.
I can understand how this might sound hard to believe. But for an eleven-year-old survivalist like me, it’s exactly the kind of poultry pickle I’ve been preparing for my entire life.
I saw this coming a mile away.
But Barker, you say, you’re only eleven years old! Were you really preparing for terrible trouble all the way back when you were two?
I shouldn’t even dignify that question with an answer, but I will because we just met.
Of course I was prepared for disaster when I was two years old.
And I’ll tell you why: because when you’re two years old, a lot is coming at you (like forks and spoons and carrots.) Danger lurks around every corner for a two-year-old, and the world could go pear-shaped at any moment. There is no better time to be prepared than when you’re a human baby. Sure, I’m stating the obvious. A normal onesie-wearing human infant is a defenseless blob of skin and bones. So consider this a warning: do not be a bundle of useless baby! You’re better than that.
When I was two years old, I took naps with one eye open, I wore floaties and a bicycle helmet to bed, and I lined my crib with trip wires. And why did I do these things? Because the house could flood at any moment, the light fixture could fall off the ceiling, or a zombie could wander into my room. And I was ready for all three.
Since we’re on the subject of me being prepared, here’s the first of many famous Barker Mifflin adages you will find scattered throughout this book. I call them Survival Nuggets, not to be confused with Survival Chicken Nuggets, an amusing dinner game my little brother likes to play.
Barker Mifflin’s Survival Nugget Number 4, written when I was two years old: Your first mistake was thinking bad things wouldn’t happen.
No truer words have ever been spoken, am I right?
I’m not sure if I mentioned this already, but the giant chicken I’m currently riding through the woods is chasing a fully grown llama that’s about the size of a pigmy goat. So yeah, I’m having a strange and confusing day. But like I said, I’m prepared.
But how did you find yourself riding a forty-foot chicken, you ask, and where did it come from?
These are excellent questions.
Survival Nugget Number 117: The answers are out there; all you have to do is ask.
And so, since you asked, I will give you the answer. The answer in this particular case is going to require me to go back two days and start from the beginning. But don’t you worry, I’ll still be out here riding a giant chicken that’s chasing a tiny llama when you catch up.
And so it begins.