Who Killed Cornelius the Cock?

"What about the blood on the hen house floor?" Jemima asked.

"Two drops," Crackle said. "Just two, tiny drops. That was the only sign of trouble."

"Yeah," Pop said. "We're not even sure he was killed in the hen house. I keep telling everyone it had to be a vampire, but nobody listens to me around here."

"He's a smart ass," Crackle said to the agents. "He's right. We don't listen to him."

Agent Chester Cheetah slouched against the wall, deep in thought. His dark glasses hid his eyes, making it hard to see what the cheetah was thinking.

Agent Jemima turned to Snap. "The marks are consistent with the wounds in the other two murders. We just don't know what kind of weapon would make those kinds of marks."

"And where did the blood go?" Pop added. "If it was a knife or an ice pick or something, there'd be blood everywhere." He continued despite the warning look Crackle shot him. "I'm telling you. It was a vampire."

Chester finally spoke. "It's the same with the other two victims. Unidentified murder weapon. No blood." His cell phone rang once, but stopped before he could answer it.

"No service down here," Crackle said.

Pop smiled at Jemima, his eyes roaming up and down her slim form covered by her conservative, yet stylish, black pants suit. "You busy for dinner tonight, hot stuff?"

"Call me 'hot stuff' again, and I'll shoot you in the crispies," she said with a warning smile.

"You don't want to mess with that," Chester said to Pop, shaking his head.

* * * *

At the hen house, Special Agent Peanut tried to question the women, but they were too distraught, too scattered. They kept trying to peck his shell. To maintain a modicum of dignity, Peanut left the hen house, announcing that he needed to make a phone call. Finally, Special Agent Clean stepped in and took care of the hysterical chickens.

"Ladies." He paused and cleared his throat. "Ladies. I need your help. I need all of you to close your eyes and listen to me for just a minute."

Most of the hens complied and tried to follow his directions.

"Think back to that night. What was different from all the other nights? You got settled for the evening. Were all of you in your usual roosts?"

The hens clucked and nodded.

"In your mind, look around the hen house. What do you see? Anything out of the ordinary?" Clean asked.

The hens shook their heads, their feathers rustling softly.

"Listen for a minute. What do you hear?"

The hens cocked their heads as if they were straining to hear a sound. Finally a fluffy, brown hen spoke up. "I heard wings flapping."

All of the hens exploded in cackles of clucking laughter. "We all have wings, you ninny," said the small, white hen. The brown hen tried to explain herself, but her housemates cut her off, cackling so loudly, she didn't try to finish her thought.

Special Agent Clean finally spoke up. He held his muscled arms high over his head. "Ladies. Ladies. Let the woman speak."

"It wasn't chicken wings I heard. They sounded leathery. Like a bat's."

"Good girl," said Agent Clean. "Anything else?"

"Yeah. I smelled chocolate."

* * * *

When the FBI team reconvened at the police station, they called in Cap'n Crunch, Toucan Sam, Cookie Cop, Jolly Green, and Michelin Man to get their takes on the evidence collected in the two older cases. Special Agent Jemima gave the presentation.

"This is Underwood Devil, murdered upstate two years ago on Halloween. The cause of death in his and our other victim's cases are the same as the cock. Exsanguination with two small marks on the bodies. The second victim was Umbrella Girl, you know, from the salt containers? Although she wasn't much of a girl at the end."

"Yeah," Chester said. "Her neighbors said she grew up to be a real slut. She'd f—, I mean, sleep with anything with a pecker." He paused for a moment, as if searching for the right words. "Or anything without a pecker, if you know what I mean."

Jolly Green crossed his legs uncomfortably. "Ho, ho, I'm not sure I do know wha'cha mean."

Deputy Michelin Man whispered in his ear, and a tinge of red crept into the giant's green cheeks. "Ho, ho ... no. I did not know girls did that with other girls. Learn something new every day, I guess. Just ignore silly old me."

Jemima smiled at Jolly Green. "You are a gentleman, aren't you?"

"Yes, indeedy," he said, blushing even more deeply. "But what does all of this have to do with Cornelius?"

Agent Cheetah laughed. "Well, the cock was a pecker, and the girl liked peckers. Maybe it's a sexual connection." He winked at Jolly Green, just to make him squirm.

Agent Gecko answered. "There weren't any signs of sexual trauma to any of the victims, but we can't yet rule out the possibility that sex played into the killer's selection of victims. Did Cornelius date? Did he visit prostitutes?"

"No, no. Nothing like that," Cap'n Crunch said with disgust. "He had just gotten engaged to Gertrude, one of the hens. He wasn't getting any action on the side."

"You can't be sure of that," said Special Agent Peanut. "You'd be surprised what goes on behind closed doors."

"But it's a hen house," the cap'n said. "You can see through chicken wire."

Clean could see the tensions rising, and spoke up. "I think what Peanut is trying to say is that we need to look at this from all angles. We could be missing something important here if we don't at least consider that the cock was stepping out on the hens."

Peanut said, "Well, the funeral is tomorrow. Chester, you and Jemima can ask some questions and see if our cock was cheating on poor Gertrude. The rest of us will watch the crowd."

* * * *

The funeral for Cornelius the Cock was a solemn occasion at the chapel on the town common. After a hearty address by Mr. Quaker, Lucky the Leprechaun hopped up to the podium to deliver his eulogy.

"Cornelius. Our village's beloved cock," Lucky said in his Irish brogue. "The most reliable member of our community. Every morning, the best part of waking up was Folgers in our cup and hearing that cock strut his stuff. He crowed long and hard until we were all up and ready for action."

The FBI team sat amongst the townspeople. Special Agents Clean and Peanut whispered as they looked from villager to villager, gauging their reactions. Tony the Tiger eyed them suspiciously, wondering what the feds thought they saw. Everything looked copasetic to him. He leaned over to Barney Rubble, motioning toward Agent Aunt Jemima. "I bet I'd bring out the tiger in her." He chuckled softly while Lucky continued to praise the life of the cock.

"Friends, we can see Cornelius reflected in me rainbow of marshmallow surprises. His pink heart loved everybody, especially poor Gertrude."

Lucky looked to the hen in the front row who sobbed uncontrollably, her feathers flying throughout the chapel. Lucky shook his head in sadness. Word in the village was that the new rooster wasn't so popular with the hens. He was also a late sleeper. The only one in town that was happy with that was Honeycomb Kid. He been selling alarm clocks in his shop since 1969, and now he could hardly keep them from flying off the shelf.

"The light of the yellow moon, that shines while we sleep, while Sunny recharges for each day," Lucky said. "When that moonlight faded, Cornelius knew. His crowing upon waking roused us all, woke Sunny and told him to shine and halt the glow of me orange stars." Sunny nodded from his high noon spot in the sky.

"Me green clovers ... Ah, Cornelius had the luck o' the Irish when Gertrude arrived in his hen house. Just last month, he bought her that big, blue diamond, and they thought they'd be together forever."

Gertrude sobbed loudly again as Lucky finished speaking. "Whenever I see me magically delicious rainbow, I'll think of my good friend, Cornelius the Cock." He collected his notes, dropping two of the cards, and left the podium.

"That is one sad chicken," Special Agent Cheetah said to Special Agent Jemima. "Maybe I should go comfort her."

"You'll do nothing of the sort," Jemima said. "We're no closer to catching the cock's killer than before we got here. Let's go talk to the hens." Cheetah smirked lasciviously. "Talk to the hens, Chester. Talk to them." Jemima shook her head and stepped in the direction of the chickens.

* * * *

After the funeral, the FBI team assembled in the conference room at the police station to discuss their findings.

"I don't see any link between these victims," Special Agent Jemima said. "We've got a cereal-peddling rooster, a ham-hawking Underwood Devil, and a grown-up, washed-up salt monger with an umbrella. They're not the same sex, color, age, or even species!" She shook her head at the pictures in front of her. "Their employers are different. Their families are different. There just doesn't seem to be a link between them."

Agent Gecko said, "They were all killed on Halloween. Maybe they all wore the same costume or something. Maybe they were all Vikings. Maybe our killer is attracted to that. Maybe they all dressed as Betty Crocker or Ronald McDonald."

"I know I'd be attracted to a sexy Betty Crocker. Especially a slutty one with an umbrella," Agent Cheetah said as he leaned back in his chair and put his feet on the table in front of him. "And if we're going to talk about attraction, maybe they all have some crazy fetish. Feet or something, you know. Do we see anything like that? Maybe it is all about the pecker."

"You would think of the sexual angle," Jemima said with a disapproving look. "Did anybody search the victims' computers?"

Peanut said, "I don't think they did. I'm under the impression that this community isn't very tech savvy. Same impression I got in Springfield and in that Podunk upstate."

"I'll call Poppin' Fresh," Jemima said, picking up her cell phone. "Who knows? Maybe they used the computer at the library or something."

"If anyone can find a digital trace of our victims, it's that Doughboy," said Special Agent Clean.

Just then Cap'n Crunch knocked on the conference room door. He poked his head in. "You guys are gonna want to see this."

When they filed into the hallway, they saw Sonny being restrained by Sugar Bear, the desk sergeant, and Detective Toucan Sam. He was completely out of control, spouting obscenities and going cuckoo for Cocoa Puffs. Again.

"What the hell is his problem?" Chester Cheetah asked Cap'n Crunch.

"Chocolate drives him cuckoo. All he has to do is see or smell a whiff of the stuff and he goes nuts," the cap'n said. "Our friend Trix Rabbit lured him here with a Hershey Bar. When the hens said that they smelled chocolate, Trixie made the conclusion that Sonny must be our killer."

Agent Geico Gecko said, "Isn't that the rabbit that was in custody on the day the cock was found?"

"Excuse me?" the cap'n said. "I got a little lost listening to that outrageous accent of yours. Where did you say you're from?"

Gecko stared at him for a moment with raised palms and furrowed eyebrows. "The rabbit," Gecko repeated, annoyed. "What about the rabbit? Do you suppose he's acting out of spite here?"

"Of course, I do," roared the cap'n. "Sonny doesn't have the discipline to commit a murder like this. He's going cuckoo ninety-five percent of the time. He smells like chocolate, sure, but so do Barney Rubble and Fred Flintstone. You wanna make them suspects too, just because they eat a lot of Cocoa Pebbles?"

Mister Peanut stepped in with his palms out in defense. "Look. We're all on the same side here. We don't want to have neighbor turning on neighbor. See if you can get everybody calmed down, and we'll talk after lunch."

* * * *

Agent Clean broke the news when they returned. Cap'n Crunch was pissed to find out that the FBI team would be leaving in the morning. "This guy's just gonna get away? What if he comes back? What if he kills somebody else?"

"We're at a standstill, and the team is needed for another case," Jemima explained. "It doesn't do us any good to be here if there's nothing more to be learned. The last piece we were waiting on was the report from our technical analyst, Poppin' Fresh. He can't find any evidence that Cornelius had contact with other women, and we haven't found one link between the three victims. We've analyzed all of the evidence that was collected, and we just don't have the answers we need. I'm sorry, but this is the way it has to be."

"This sucks," the cap'n said, slamming his stapler down on his desk for effect. "Fine. Go. We'll just take care of ourselves here."

And with that, the FBI left as quickly as they had arrived.

* * * *

Book Two: October, 2015

Without the extra manpower, the investigation came to a standstill and the villagers went on with their regular lives. Autumn turned to winter and then to spring. Butterworth and Honeycomb were married by Mr. Quaker at the courthouse. Sonny was temporarily committed to a mental institution upstate. Lucky got LoJack for his Lucky Charms. Trix Rabbit was serving time for lurking around the neighborhood in a trench coat. The murder case of Cornelius the Cock grew colder and colder as the year progressed.

Until one day the next September, when Cap'n Crunch got a phone call from Energizer Bunny, the guy in charge of cold cases in Springfield. "Hey, Cap'n. I've been going and going and going and going over these Halloween cases. You know, the exsanguination cases?"

"Yeah. Cornelius. We still miss him here. The new guy is terrible. And we have no leads," the cap'n said, shaking his head.

"How 'bout I come pick your brain next week? See if we can't find the fucker before he kills again this Halloween."

"Good idea," the cap'n said. "In the meantime, we'll do some interviews here. See if anybody's remembered anything we missed last year."

* * * *

"Oh, Betty," Wilma moaned. "Do you like the way that pussy tastes?"

"Mmm," Betty said with her lips on Wilma's clit. She kissed her softly and then sucked her fleshy lips into her mouth.

"Ohhhh. I like that, you little slut. You pussy-licking whore. You can't get enough pussy, can you?"

Fred and Barney sat on opposite ends of the couch watching their wives fuck. "How did we get so lucky, Fred? This is like watching porn, only it's right in front of us."

"Shut up, Barney. We don't want to disturb the girls. Wilma's gonna come any minute. I don't want to miss it because I'm listening to you blabbering," Fred said.

Barney looked back to see Betty fucking Wilma hard and fast with her fingers. "Get the dildo, Betty. The big one," Wilma moaned.

"I'll get it for ya, girls," Barney said. "Just keep licking that pussy, Betty. I'll take care of it." He went to the bag with the toys, and on his way over to his wife, his stomach growled. He handed Betty the huge dildo. It was made from T-Rex bone, and it was impressive. He should know. Betty had shoved it up his well-lubed ass a time or two.

On his way back to the couch, he realized that Fred was so enthralled by watching his wife get pounded with the giant dinosaur bone, that he could probably get Fred's Cocoa Pebbles without even putting on a disguise. He snuck into the kitchen without being noticed.

Fred couldn't stand to watch for another minute. He walked over to Wilma's head, pulled off his clothes, and put his throbbing cock into Wilma's mouth. Wilma sucked him with a vengeance, fueled by lust and her impending orgasm. "Oh, Wilma. You're such a good, little cocksucker. You like that big, fat dick in your mouth, don't you?" He tweaked her nipples and watched as Betty's skilled tongue worked over her clit. "You want to come, don't you? Come for me, baby. All over Betty's face."

Betty slammed the dildo into her cunt and sucked her pussy lips all the way into her mouth. Fred pinched her nipples just as his orgasm hit. "Grab my balls, Wilma. Grab 'em. Pull 'em. There you go, you dirty slut." He squirted half of his cum into her mouth and the other half all over her face and tits.

"I'm a dirty whore!" Wilma yelled as she came hard, squeezing her thighs around Betty's head. "Dirty, filthy whore. Coming on my girlfriend's face. Oh my fucking god."

When Wilma relaxed, Fred said, "Okay, Barney, which one are you fucking first?" He looked around the room for Barney, just as the knock at the door startled all of them. They scrambled to cover up, and when they were finally decent, Fred answered the door.

It was Detective Toucan Sam and Officer Crumb, the Cookie Cop. "Sorry to disturb you, folks," Sam said, sniffing the air and furrowing his brow. He looked at Betty. It looked like her dress was on backwards. Something weird was going on here. He just didn't know if it had anything to do with his case or not. "We're re-examining the details of Cornelius's murder, seeing as Halloween is coming soon, and we don't want to have another murder on our hands. Tell me about the last time you guys saw Cornelius."

Betty and Wilma looked at each other. Sam thought they looked like they were hiding something. "I don't think I even saw Cornelius at the party," Wilma said. "He always went to bed so early."

"Yeah," Betty said. "I didn't see him at all. Wilma and I were ... talking girl talk upstairs at the party for most of the night." She blushed, making Sam even more suspicious.

Officer Crumb looked at Barney, the most likely of the bunch to crack and spill a secret. Barney did his best to look over his thick middle to his feet.

"How about you, Fred?" Sam asked. "Did you see Cornelius at the party that night?"

"I was pretty loaded that night. I don't remember too much," Fred said. "I don't think I can help you."

"Mm-hmm," Sam said. He was skeptical. "C'mon, Crumb." He turned toward the door and sniffed the air one more time thinking that the stench of sex was depriving his brain of oxygen. "What is that smell?"

Barney spoke for the first time, giving Fred a guilty look. "Cocoa Pebbles."

"BAR-NEY!" Fred roared, as the door closed behind the investigators.

* * * *

Sheriff Jolly Green Giant and Deputy Michelin Man arrived on the doorstep of Dig 'Em Frog. He had left for Florida for the winter when Cornelius was murdered the year before, but Dig 'Em had lived in the village his whole life, and he kept in touch with many of the villagers.

"Dig 'Em. Did anyone tell you anything about the murder? Discuss suspects? Theories?" Deputy Michelin Man asked.

"I only know what I saw on the news," he said before launching into a long, hacking smoker's coughing fit.

The sheriff tried to be patient, but he couldn't wait to get away from this stinky, disgusting frog. When he finally took a sip of water and caught his breath, Jolly Green asked, "What do you think happened? I mean, if you were going to take a guess."

Dig 'Em coughed again and then said, "You know, I do remember one other murder in town. Years ago. Way before my time. Remember Cliffy the Clown?"

"From the Sugar Smacks?" Michelin Man asked.

"Yeah, but they call them Honey Smacks now," Dig 'Em said. "Nobody wants sugar in the name of their cereal anymore. That's why Sugar Bear's a cop now."

"I remember Cliffy," Jolly Green asked. "What happened to him?"

"The rumor at Sugar Smacks is that a vampire got him. When they found him in the wheat field, he didn't have a single drop of blood in him. Now this is going back, like twenty years, but maybe the vampire that killed Cliffy came back to town and got Cornelius."

"A Vampire? That's what you think happened to the cock?" Michelin Man said, shaking his head in disbelief that anyone, even a frog, would be that stupid.

"You got a better idea? Seems to me you geniuses haven't solved it yet. You might want to consider thinking outside of the box." Dig 'Em tapped on his temple while he spoke.

"Ho, ho, ho-kay. We'll certainly pursue that line of investigation," said Sheriff Giant. "You have a super day now. And thank you for your time."