The Fire Chicken Ink Quill

 

Australia, the 80's: every man and his dog (tax purposes) releasing a new model of vacuum cleaner, each requiring an operating manual and willing to pay generously for such. There were only about three dozen individuals with the requisite ambition and dull personality for this technical writing, bashing out a few each day in pursuit of big bucks - cowboys with mullets and pre-fashionable thick-rimmed glasses, fuelled by black tea and cocaine and, suitably, ACDC. It was in this milieu that Paul, gung-ho and then 20, made his money before deaths of rivals and friends in this scene prompted him to rethink his priorities. He dipped into the stock market, getting out before bubbles burst and his fingers got pruney. Paul took early retirement and bought a bush-block four hours from town because social interaction is not his thing, where he receives plenty of unannounced visitors.

The latest visitors to Paul's bush-block has been Australia's flock of 14 Fire Chickens. The Fire Chicken is the sterile crossbreed of the Phoenix and Zhūqué, respectively introduced to Australia by migrants from Greece and China but far more interested in each other. The Fire Chicken inherited the parents' form of immortality via fiery rebirth upon death, which has a tendency to cause bushfires and technically classes the Fire Chicken outside of the egg laying Aves taxon. However, because the feathery Greek's yellow fever is a uniquely Australian phenomenon, the Department of Very Bad Ideas classed the Fire Chicken as a protected native species. Furthermore, Paul discovered that unleashing shotgun fire on the pests triggered cuckoo-swarm-come-firestorm. He decided to treat the Fire Chickens like possums, a nuisance to begrudgingly nudge into better habits, so he built a fireproof chicken coop where they could safely incinerate.

A bale of barley straw makes for expensive nightly tinder, so Paul sought to monetise the Fire Chickens. He took a bright blue feather dropped after the birds scuffled for a worm. He crafted the feather into an ink quill. Lo, the Fire Chicken Ink Quill was made, an ink quill with residual fiery properties: ink dries upon touching paper and, once enough friction is accrued by writing, the feather may be struck on any surface to light like a match.

Felicity came into ownership of the Fire Chicken Ink Quill during one of her wine tasting parties.

Felicity: 'Heeeey cuuuuz. Enjoying the cab sav?'

Paul: 'I thought this was a merlot.'

'Yeah, Cabernet-merlot. Restricted Bordeaux, hne hne hne.'

'Do you need a spittoon?'

'Aaaaaah been up to much lately?'

'I've made something. Something unique.'

'Oh, and what would you like to barter for?'

'You know those Bulla ice cream ads? Where there's a guy in the paddock with cows, on a quad bike, eating ice cream? I want that.'

'The, uh, the quad bike? The ice cream?'

'I want whatever is keeping the ice cream cold. He's been out there for a few hours at least, the ice cream hasn't melted, he doesn't have an esky and if he left the ice cream in a freezer he would have eaten said ice cream inside.'

'Hm. Ok, I might know someone.'

Indeed, Felicity works as a sommelier but side hustles as someone who knows someone, the middle (wo)man in exchanges of goods who, due to price differences, is able to take a cut of CatScript (₵$) in the form of Slut Root, El Dorado Green or Dirty Granny. She got into this magical black market due to her enthusiasm for wine - she enjoys the adventure of never-the-same tipples, the hunt for ~$25 bottles on par with those from prestige regions, also booze. Furthermore, the ranking of grape types by global acreage (into: popular, common, uncommon, rare) gives wine collecting some of the appeal of Yu-Gi-Oh cards.

Wine operates more akin to the markets of the Yu-Gi-Oh anime than the local hobby store - 'Toon World', for example, was in the Pegasus starter deck released during primary school, but in the anime was illegal and the only copy carried by the franchise's owner. Certain wines are esoteric in rarity, rumoured or in fiction - these are the vintages that Felicity seeks out amongst peddlers of zombie scalps, get-out-of-jail-free cards and colossal nossies. She is currently searching for a Colchagua Valley 'Rex Stanton' País*, Fernando Delgado's last wine before his son's overdose prompted his window-sill dive. So the newspapers say.

Felicity has other plans for the Fire Chicken Ink Quill: trading it for Renee's services. Renee is specialised in contract law but works as a defence lawyer, because run-of-the-mill contract writing is mostly performed by automated computers and her boss perpetually drinks himself into an alternate 1950's with elements of Marvel's New York. However, this magical black market has egoistic-anarchist elements which respect no laws save for those entered into by the individual by contract - specifically, contracts which invocate myriad Daedra, Shoggoth and Maia to acquire a property unseen in the merely-real world, contracts which can magically enforce themselves. Renee works on these contracts, on the side and tax free, where her expertise is required because machines are so far unable to print the relevant glyphs neatly enough and the aforementioned lesser deities, racist, prefer the human touch.

Felicity takes a taxi to Renee's office building, rides the elevator to the roof and abseils down to her window.

Felicity, dangling: 'Is your boss conscious?'

Renee helps her in: 'He usually gets his second wind in about half an hour.'

'Good. I have the means and payment for the divorce.'

Felicity has never particularly respected the government's recognition of anything, instead marrying 'the fuckwit' solely in front of her community and her dark gods. Because of the abnormal marriage contract they signed, said gods will not recognise Felicity's single status despite multiple affairs on behalf of 'the fuckwit' and his death,. Renee can prepare the divorce papers but these papers must be written in the blood of Pholcus Erectus, a species of humanoid arachnid. This writing must be done very carefully - a misspelling or a smudge would give Felicity's divorce unintended content with unforseen consequences - which is tricky because Pholcus Erectus blood has a habit of scurrying, like a swarm of baby spiders, when wet. The Fire Chick Ink Quill will solve this wet-blood problem and, furthermore, only allow Renee to light a joint after requisite writing is completed.

 

*Said to pair congruently with cocaine.