Here's a little silly one I made to break it, I wanna know if you can guess what sort of stuff I've been listening a LOT of lately

"Greg are we lost? Greg! GREEEG!!!"
"Huuuh??" Greg sighed as he threw an empty beer bottle out the window and toned down the "music".
"What did you say bro"
"I said a rhetorical question Greg, we're so fucking lost and I'm hungry."
They couldn't see shit outside the flickering front lights of the SUV, and all that was, was corn... corn... and oh look, more corn. The road was horrible and made them regret drinking just a little bit too much beer. The rest of the horizon was pitch-black, but chances are it was just more corn anyway.
"Greg we're gonna fucking starve in the middle of buttfuck nowhere!"
"Shut up you diva..." Greg laughed, and pondered for a moment as corn kept endlessly streaming all around them. Admittedly he wasn't too used to an environment where there's not a fast food parlor on every other block. Now they were hungry, surrounded by food, but it was corn. His buddy Frank was pouting now and resting his head on the windowsill, his eyes peeled for any irregularity in the landscape.
"Hmm fried chicken."
"Shut up Frank..."
"Two numbah nines"
"Frank shut your fucking mouth.."
"One with cheese"
"Fuck you Frank!"
"And a laaaarge.. Huh? hey Greg!"
"Lalala I can't hear you."
"Greg! it's civilization, we're saved!"
"Where??"

"Civilization" was just a small, dark building in the distance. They immediately decided to stop the car and go investigate anyway, just really starving and growing desperate.

As they walked closer through the corn field, lighting up their way with their phones, it turned out to be a hen house. And distant muffled sounds coming from it confirmed that it wasn't abandoned.

"Hey Greeeg... how's about we get ourself some chicken tonight."
"What the fuck man, we're not thieves. Way to perpetuate stereotypes."
"Huh, so YOU're the little chicken then, poooot poot poot poot poot." Greg turned to see his buddy staring at him, his eyes wide with hunger and his tongue sticking out.
"Frank, hunger is making you lose your mind, you're spooking me."
"...which proves my point on... MANY levels!"
"Hmmm..."
"Plus hey, Frank added seeing as his buddy was still hesitant, the yokels around here are all probably inbred and can't count to ten, they'll never know if one chicken is missing."
"Okay okay..."
He didn't know what "the yokels" were like, but he wanted to cut the conversation short. Now that he thought of it, they had not seen anybody in maybe ten hours.

They arrived at the structure; the chicken noises coming from the inside were louder now, and gave them good hope. They turned their lights off and carefully examined the outside in the moonlight, looking for the entrance and making sure nobody was around. Except for the hen house, everything was absolutely silent. There didn't even seem to be any farm house nearby.

They hesitated one more moment; the chickens were getting louder and more agitated inside.
"Okay go go go..."
"No YOU go, it was YOUR idea!"
"Gosh you really are a little chicken..." Frank snickered as they broke the wooden door open and he slipped in the warm, pitch-black interior...
Greg decided to wait outside and prevent any chicken break-out. He pricked up his ear for the commotion coming from inside. There was a sudden outcry of a multitude of scared chickens, the noise of hitting wood, and the voice of Frank swearing. Then Frank said something, but it was drowned by the voices of the chickens; it was getting louder by the second, and the tone seemed to have changed from fear to anger.
"What did you say Frank?"
"OH JESUS CHRIST!!"
Greg heard, then the sound of a loud commotion... the chicken ruckus had now morphed into a monstrous whirlwind of furious screeches and a multitude of wings flapping...

"Hey Frank are you okay??" Greg asked, more than a little worried. No answer he could make out. "Fuck..." he cautiously got in the door, his phone in his shaking paw casting a pale light on the inside of the hen house.
The first thing he saw, in midst a tornado of white feathers, was the wooden floor, covered in pieces of cloth... it took him an instant to realize they were shredded pieces of Frank's T-shirt...
Now downright terrified, Greg raised his light to illuminate the back of the shed... the noise had come to a stop except for low humming chirps. What he saw didn't reassure him in the slightest. In front of him stood a large mass of white feathers. Wings and beaks would stick out from time to time, and he understood this was the chickens, all clustered together and busy with something underneath them... something or... someone...
"F... Frank??" he whimpered.

Immediately a dozen chicken heads stuck out of the chicken cluster in unison and turned to face him, their tiny eyes glowing in the phone's flickering light...

The chirping resumed, a few isolated ones at first, then more and more as the chickens slowly stood down and made their way towards Greg... Greg was too scared to move, as now most of the chickens were marching towards him he saw what they had been busy doing... his buddy Frank was miserably hogtied and gagged, wearing nothing but his underwear...
"GRHHG... HLLP MHH!"

"WHAT DID YOU DO TO MY FRIEND YOU MONSTERS??" Greg screeched; then all Hell broke loose again...
"OH SHIT" he yelped and turned to run off. But he tripped on a chicken and fell flat on his stomach, his head only sticking out of the hen house. "HEEELP!!" he screamed desperately in the absolute silence of the endless corn fields as the feathered multitude grabbed ahold of him and dragged him back inside...

There was a loud intense commotion, then all turned back to normal and the eerie silence of the corn fields.