MB Short Story: Blue Chicken Life (Ferro and Kent Version)

“Nooooooooooooooo!”

Glitch’s wail echoes from the living room, his despair resonating off half-painted walls and ricocheting down the empty hallway to greet you at the front door. With an exasperated-but-loving sigh, you take off your shoes so as not to scuff the new floorboards and head in the direction of your boyfriend's cry. No doubt he heard you enter, which explains the increasing volume of his overdramatic sobs. The unlidded paint bucket in the corner causes you to frown; from the looks of it, progress on the hallway walls hasn’t progressed since you left for work this morning.

What have they been up to?

The living room is still unfurnished but for a mounted widescreen television, a docked game console, and two oversized beanbag chairs and their occupants. Glitch’s controller is located on the opposite end of the room, no doubt flung dramatically upon the moment of his in-game death.

“Everything all right?” You nudge Glitch over and join him on the beanbag. It’s a tight squeeze, but Glitch doesn’t seem to mind given the way he immediately throws his arms around you and latches on.

“Nothing is right!” Glitch buries his head in your shoulder, muffling sobs that sound suspiciously like laughter. “Nothing shalt ever be all right ever again.”

Uh-oh. Things must be rough if your boyfriend has already gone Ye Olde English.

You glance questioningly over at Kent, who shrugs. “We died.”

Glitch glares at his friend with dry eyes. “Blasphemy!” he proclaims. “Slander! We perished not; the console did.”

That explains why there’s no “GAME OVER” on the black tv screen. You rub Glitch’s back soothingly. “There, there,” you say. “I’ll buy you a new one.”

Glitch straightens as if affronted while also leaning into your touch. “Do not placate me, O Dearest Dream of My Soul. I am a shattered, broken man.”

“Shattered and broken are redundant,” Kent points out.

Glitch ignores him. “Yonder relic was no mere console. ’Twas a cherished antique, the spoils of war which I won from an empowered warrior at great risk and peril.”

“Nick gave Ferro his old Switch,” Kent translates, “provided that Ferro stoppednagging him about saliva samples.”

“Your brother had been frustratingly uncooperative with my attempts to understand the effects of the chemical BRS on his body,” Glitch says. “He thought video games would distract me.”

“He was right,” Kent says.

Glitch groans and flops onto the floor like a downed soldier (or a melodramatic fish).  “I admit it: Nick unearthed my weakness.”

You widen your eyes and try to look innocent. At this point, there probably isn’t much that Nick doesn’t know about Glitch—the consequence of Nick being able to read your mind. It’s one of the reasons that you suggested that you and Glitch move in together despite only having dated for three months.

“Still, we'll search for a replacement tomorrow when we’re out furniture shopping,” you offer instead of confessing to the obvious. “Switch out the memory card, and then you two can get back to playing whatever it was that you were playing.”

Glitch rolls over onto his side and stares at you with a defeated expression. “My heart, you don’t understand,” he says. “The console died moments after I found our first prismatic shard.”

Kent nods solemnly. 

“Now I have to wait another year to turn my children into doves,” Glitch whines.

If you have no clue what they’re talking about: go to Ending A

If you speak Farm Nerd: go to Ending B

Ending A

You blink. “What into what now?”

“My children,” Glitch says slowly as if repetition will magically cause the statement to make sense. “I’ve been trying to turn them into doves since Spring.”

“He regrets marrying Shane,” Kent adds in non-explanation.

“I wanted blue chickens,” Glitch bemoans, “but he made my house so ugly.”

You suppress a smile, still clueless but rolling with it. “Here I thought this was our home now. Cheating on me already, Ferro?

Glitch straightens from the floor, rising to a kneeling position and staring at you as if awaiting knighthood. You possess my heart and eternal devotion,” he says, ignoring Kent’s eyeroll. “But my love . . . have you never played Stardew Valley?”

“I have not,” you confirm, forcing your tone to match Glitch’s solemnity while stifling a smile. “It’s a farming game, right?”

Glitch gasps and lays a hand over his heart. “A farming game?” he repeats. “Stardew Valley is no mere farming game. It’s a classic which has held up over the decades a prime example of . . . of . . .” For once, Glitch’s words fail him, confounded by your lack of knowledge over an agricultural life simulator.

“It’s a chill game,” Kent says. “Kinda boring, but chill.”

Glitch emits a horrified squeak. “Kinda boring?”

“Most video games are boring.” Kent shrugs, his expression one of indifference. “This one is relaxing, at least.”

“I’m sure that Stardew Valley is great,” you hastily interject before Glitch declares their friendship over and void.

Glitch’s gaze swivels between you and Kent. “Betrayal all around me!” he declares, flinging out an arm like Romeo in his death throes.

“I said it was chill,” Kent sighs. “Stop overreacting.”

“BETRAYAL!” Glitch’s arm swings in your direction, his finger coming to rest upon the tip of your nose. “Betrayal in the form of ignorance!” His arm swings again, this time pointing accusatorily at Kent. “And betrayal in the form of . . .” He hesitates, at a loss to summarize his discontent.

“Deception?” you suggest.

“Boredom?” Kent says.

“Betrayal in the form of bad taste,” Glitch concludes.

Kent shrugs while you use your hand to cover your smile. “Life is so hard for you, babe,” you tell Glitch, “being surrounded by such unenlightened souls.”

“So tragic,” Kent says without inflection.

Glitch stands and looks down his nose at where you’re still seated in the beanbag. He gives a dignified sniff, the kind performed by British butlers in American movies when they’re appalled by someone’s plebian classlessness. “I’m calling my future brother-in-law to commiserate about how terrible you both are,” he announces. “I’ll properly educate you upon my return.”

He sashays out of the room, head held high. Once he’s out of sight, you and Kent look at each other, your accusations verbalized simultaneously:

“He’s your best friend.”

“You’re dating him.”

Ending B

“You’re a monster,” you flatly inform your boyfriend. “Only a monster would use the Dark Shrine of Selfishness.”

“I made a mistake!” Glitch protests. “How was I supposed to know that Shane would ruin my house design?”

“So, you turn your children into birds because your relationship soured? Monster.”

“The kids were an accidental click.”

“Mon-ster.”

Glitch clasps your hand between his own, cusping them close to his chin pleadingly. “Don’t be cruel,” he whines. “Isn’t it bad enough that I lost my first prismatic shard?”

At the sound of an amused snort, both your heads pivot in Kent’s direction. He’s smirking. Kent isn’t usually a smirker; the fact that he’s doing so now doesn’t bode well.

Glitch’s eyes narrow. “Spit it out.”

Kent shakes his head, smirk undiminished. “It’s nothing.”

“Bullshizzle,” Glitch declares. “You have that I’m-thinking-something-devious-and-internally-amused-by-it look that you get. Don’t keep us in suspense.”

“It’s just that Wiseman is being awfully calm about your affair,” Kent murmurs.

“It wasn’t an affair,” Glitch retorts, “I simply wanted blue chickens.” He glances over at you. “Sweetheart, Shane meant nothing to me.”

“Also,” Kent continues, his smirk deepening, “it sounds like you two should’ve discussed family planning before moving in together. Different values on how to raise children and all.”

You expect Glitch to immediately snap out a comeback and are surprised when no response is forthcoming. Instead, he bashfully ducks his head and avoids looking at you.

“I—” Glitch starts. “That is, we don't plan. . . we never—”

Is your eloquent boyfriend actually stuttering?

“You two never discussed the future?” Kent teases relentlessly. “Surprising. Would’ve thought that was something to bring up before moving in together.”

Glitch stands up abruptly. “Time for you to go,” he announces. “Dogs need to be fed and whatnot.”

Kent rises from his beanbag lazily, his smirk still firmly affixed. “Annie and Cass don’t get out of their grooming appointment for another hour,” he says, “but I can take a hint.”

“Can you?” Glitch mutters under his breath.

“Yes,” Kent replies. He puts out a hand, stopping Glitch from following him into the hallway. “I’ll see myself out. You stay.” His grey eyes twinkle with mirth as he gives you a small smile. “After all, you two have an important conversation to conduct.”

Glitch groans. “Just go already.”

Kent exits to the hallway, his soft laughter disappearing behind the condo’s front door. Glitch takes his abandoned beanbag, positioning it so that he’s seated directly across from you. His hand nervously rubs the back of his neck, and his smile is wobbly.

“Is Kent right?” Glitch asks. “Is this a conversation that we should’ve already had? Or need to have? Or am I overthinking things as usual because I know that I want to be with you no matter what but I also want to make sure that we’re on the same page and—”

You lean forward and seal Glitch’s mouth with yours, cutting him off mid-ramble. 

“We have all the time in the world for those conversations,” you whisper against his lips. “Right now, why don’t you show me the new bedroom furniture?”