Our story takes place
in a nice, cosy little farmyard.
The characters,
in order of their appearance, are:
Cocky Locky, head man,
chicken inspector,
supervisor of egg production.
A good guy to know nowadays.
This is Henny Penny
and the local rocking chair brigade,
always ready to poke their beaks
into everybody's business
instead of sticking to their knitting.
Here we have them at the bridge table.
Who are they pecking to pieces now?
Let's listen in.
Sound just like people, don't they?
Now we see them at
Madame Colette's Beauty Coop,
getting the popular red-henna rinse.
This is Turkey Lurkey
and the smart set,
who spend all day discussing
what is wrong with the world.
There's this element too,
the Jitterbirds,
a pretty featherbrained crowd.
And here are Goosey Poosey
and Ducky Lucky,
and all the other gay ducks.
A thirsty lot, always around
where there's something to drink.
Now, last but not least,
here is Chicken Little,
playboy and yo-yo champ.
A little shy on brains,
but a good egg, as chickens go.
As our story continues,
we find all our fine feathered friends
happy and contented.
And why not?
Didn't they have a big, strong fence
protecting them?
But wait a minute.
What's this?
It's Foxy Loxy, the poultry fancier.
Looks like he's taken an interest
in our little community.
A culinary interest.
So why doesn't he just jump in
and help himself?
Do you suppose
it's because of the high fence?
Or the locks on the inside?
Or the farmer's shotgun?
But I'm not a fox for nothing.
Besides, there's more than one way
to pluck a chicken.
Psychology!
Why should I just get one,
when I can get them all?
Quote: "To influence the masses,
aim first at the least intelligent," unquote.
Now, let's see,
who looks nice and stupid?
Cocky Locky?
Turkey Lurkey?
Ducky Lucky? Goosey Poosey?
Henny Penny?
Chicken Little?
He looks nice and stupid.
Quote: "If you tell them a lie,
don't tell a little one,
tell a big one," unquote.
This is the voice of doom speaking.
Special bulletin.
Flash: The sky is falling.
A piece of it just hit you on the head.
Now be calm. Don't get panicky...
Run for your life!
The sky is falling! The...
The sky is falling!
A piece of it just hit me on the head.
The sky is falling. Hurry, hurry!
Come, everybody, the sky is falling!
The sky, the sky is falling!
There you are, you see?
Just like I told you.
Hit me on the head.
Sure enough?
Oh, my goodness, how awful.
What'll we do? We'll all be killed.
Now, look here, look here.
What's all the fuss and feathers?
Something awful has happened.
A piece of the sky fell down
and hit me on the head.
A piece of the sky?
Nonsense, it's just a hunk of wood.
Guess that's the end of your stew,
Mr. Foxy Loxy.
All right now, folks, break it up.
Back to business as usual.
Oh, a wise guy, huh? I'll fix him.
Well, let's see now...
Here we are. Quote:
"Undermine the faith of the masses
in their leaders," unquote.
Well, I suppose Cocky Locky knows
what he's talking about.
Well, yes. He ought to know.
But listen, girls, suppose he's wrong?
He's only human, you know.
And if he should happen to be wrong,
we'd all be killed.
Now, in my opinion, Cocky Locky shows
definite totalitarian tendencies.
He's trying to dictate to us.
We can judge for ourselves
whether the sky is falling or not.
Say, fellas, I hear old Cocky Locky's
been hitting the mash lately.
He's full of corn. His brain is pickled.
There it goes,
the whispering campaign.
Say, sister.
You hear about Cocky Locky?
He ain't got all his marbles.
- Ain't it awful?
- Oh, definitely, my dear.
Wow, what a wolf.
Did you hear?
Cocky Locky is wallowing in corn.
I hear he's quite a chicken chaser.
No, you don't say so?
There's no fowl like an old fowl.
He's not the cock of the walk anymore.
What?
Not the cock of the walk anymore.
Quote: "By the use of flattery,
insignificant people can be made
to look upon themselves
as born leaders," unquote.
Now's your chance, kid.
They'll listen to you now.
You were born to be a leader.
Go to it.
Listen to me, everybody.
I'm your new leader.
I'm gonna save your lives.
I'm gonna tell you what to do.
Don't listen to that pip-squeak.
The sky isn't falling.
- I tell you, it is, too, falling.
- And I tell you, it isn't.
- Is too!
- All right.
If the sky is falling,
why doesn't it hit me on the head?
Chicken Little's right. What'll we do?
Oh, Chicken Little,
you've got to help us.
Run to the cave.
Oh, yeah. Yeah, that's it. To the cave.
- To the cave.
- Out the gate. Hurry, hurry, hurry!
Dinner is served.
Don't worry, folks.
This all turns out all right.
Delicious.
Hey, wait a minute.
This isn't right.
That's not the way it ends in my book.
Oh, yeah?
Don't believe
everything you read, brother.