Chicken Run: Rocky x Chicken Reader

Meeting Rocky

I don't own this video and I couldn't find a proper picture of Rocky. 

Y/n POV

I heard a knock on my hut door and I opened the door to see two rats. 

"You called? Nick and-" Nick said. 

"Fetcher-." Fetcher said. 

"At your service." Nick finished.

"Over here." I said, bringing them behind my hut. 

"We need some more things." I said. 

"Right you are, miss." Nick said as they opened their 'briefcase'. 

"How about this quality handcrafted tea set?" Nick said, bringing out rusted cups. 

"Uh no." I said. 

"Or this lovely necklace and pendant?" Fetcher said, it was a small drain plug on a rusty chain. 

"It's love-" I said before I was interrupted. 

"Or this beautiful little number, all the rage in the fashionable chicken coops of Paris. Simply pop it on like so, and as the French hens say, "Voila!"" Nick said, taking a shuttle that you use for badminton and put it on my head with the feathers facing up. 

"That is French." Fetcher said. 

" That's two hats in one, miss. For parties, for weddings. Oh, but madame, this makes you look like a vision, like a dream." Nick said, flipping the shuttle around and placed it on my head with the feathers facing down. 

"Like a duck." Fetcher said. 

"No, thank you. We're making this, we need these things. Can you get them?" I asked, taking the shuttle off my head, and showing Nick a picture of a contraption me and Mac need to make. 

"Oh, bigger than the others. No, no. This is gonna cost." Nick said. 

"Same as always. One bag of seed." I said, placing a bag of seed in Nick's hand. 

"You call this pay?" Nick asked. 

"It's chicken feed?" Fetcher said

"What else could we give you?" I asked. 

"Eggs." Nick said. 

"Eggs?!" I said. 

"Eggs." Fetcher said, licking his lips. 

"We can't give you our eggs. They're too valuable!" I said. 

"And so are we. After you Fetcher." Nick said, wanting Fetcher to lead the way. 

"After I what?" Fetcher asked. 

"Move!" Nick said, pushing him out. 

Mrs. Tweedy POV

Twenty-two and nine. Fourteen shillings and threepence. Seven and sixpence times three. Two and nine. Fourpence halfpenny. D-oh! Stupid, worthless creatures! I'm sick and tired of making minuscule profits." I said, crunching numbers, crumbling the paper with the numbers on it. I then saw a magazine that said "Are you tired of making minuscule profits". I picked it up and flipped to one page and saw a chicken pie machine and on the next page was a guy in a tux hold a bag with the pound symbol saying "I'm rich" and I smiled. 

"Oh, yes. Those chickens are up to something." Mr. Tweedy said, looking out of the window. 

"Quiet! I'm onto something." I said.