The bar is destroyed, the Jeep is unsalvageable, the meth lab in the barn exploded, and the business district will never be the same. Still, there’s one demographic in East Houston that seems to be pleased with the current trend of events: the chickens.
“Come forward!” Ursa proclaims. (cluck cluck cluck) “Your general (cluck cluck) wishes to speak.”
“I am (cluck cluck) General Zod, your ruler!” says the suzerain. “Yes!” (cluck cluck) “Today begins a new order! Your lands, your possessions, your very lives will gladly be given in tribute to me, General Zod! In return for your obedience, you will enjoy my generous protection. In other words, you will be allowed to live!” (cluck cluck cluck)
That’s got to be the thing that appeals to the poultry voting bloc — the promise that if they’re obedient, they’ll be allowed to live. That’s a better deal than chickens usually get.