Chickens and Mallows

Chickens and Mallows

Written by RB101

Chapter One: Coming back...

Life goes by in sporadic patterns. One moment you're starting your first day of school, next you've started Secondary, next you've received your GCSE results, next you're walking back to your apartment on the University grounds, from the part-time job you had acquired a month back.

Seriously. Being a worker at ASDA is harder than you think. The hours you get on some days is enough to make you legs turn into jelly. And as everyone knows, jelly cannot support around 75 kilograms, all centered at one point, and it would most likely collapse. I curse the ASDA God for my punishment. Why, Josh, why!?

Okay, for the record, I have no idea how that ASDA thing came to be, but my friends found it funny, and because I work there, I thought it was appropriate. Somewhat historic lessons with the narrator/main character. Woohoo.

Anyway, my name is Brendan, I'm a Uni student at the University of Liverpool, because why not, and I live in a two bedroom apartment on said Uni grounds with my good, and only friend, Oleksandr, or Alex for short. Don't ask me how it works, it just does, okay? We met in Secondary school, in the same class, and despite going off to study two separate things, me looking at Physics and Mathematics, and him looking at History and Modern Politics, we get along quite well, save the shenanigans and debates we have every now and then. I'm actually a brony, yeah, shame me, but I don't really care what others think. Besides, I'm not open about it as much as I was back in school. Alex knows, through the process of me actually telling him back in Year 9, but that doesn't mean he hates me. In fact he supports my decision with the whole ‘do what you want’ approach, so I'm fine with him knowing.

Back to reality, and current events, today is the Seventeenth of January 2020, and I am walking back home from work. I can't say the trip back home was of an exciting experience, but then again I've encountered worse. Then again, it is almost nine in the evening, so I can't really say anything about it, if the only thing you can look at is darkness.

As I step towards the front door, which adorns the number 192 on it, I pull out the keys which reside in my pocket, fumble through said keys to find the one to unlock said door, and I push it into the lock, twisting it clockwise to unlock it.

I swing the door open and the smell of unclean clothing clogs my nose, the small, white hallway, unlit from the rest of the house, and the other junk, sloppily tossed upon the floor, piling up in corners of the room. I place my right foot in first, for it to meet with the beige carpet…

...beige carpet. What else? It's student accommodation. What else do you expect? Bloody cheap-heads, the government. Can't think the best of their future generations...

The carpet is clearly not the focus right now. Trust me, watching paint dry is a better love story than that carpet and my foot, where that story is better than Twilight. Heck. Even this story could be better than that god-awful book…

No intention to offend anyone who actually likes that story.

Anyways, all of the room lights are off, apart from Alex’s room. Of course, he was the only one in the house as of a few moments ago.

I walk further into the house once I had taken off my shoes, and I step into his now open door, and there he is, blond hair, shortly cut, his blue eyes, heavily focused on the computer screen on the desk ahead of him. His headphones are on both of his ears, meaning he hasn't noticed me inside of his room yet. That's all he does, sits at his computer with his much preferred black top and grey trousers of no specific brand in his slouched posture, clicking and modifying things on the screen before him in his black chair. That thing looks bloody comfy, trust me on that.

Then, without looking at me, and unknowingly, like a reflex, his hand darts to the knife that sits on the desk, which I have no idea why it sits there, grabs it, and he leaps out of his chair towards me, and points the point of the knife to my neck. His clearly red eyeballs can tell you instantly that he hasn't enough sleep in years. “You came to the wrong house, fool…” he sternly addresses.

“How can I be in the wrong house if this is my house too?” I ask.

He blinks.

He blinks again.

He blinks for a third time, rubbing his eyelids a bit.

A moment of pause is shared between the two of us,  as we stare at each other in confusion.

“Brendan?”

I nod my head.

He puts two and two together, which obviously makes four. “Oooohhhhhhh… shit I'm sorry man. Thought you were a trespasser, or a criminal.” he apologises.

I take my hand out of my pocket and place it near my head. I respond: “One does not simply mistake his roommate for a criminal.” With that I adjust the glasses on my face, which had been dislodged during his little burst.

We chuckle a little at my statement, before he stops and turns. “How was work?”

“Same old, same old. Stacking things isn't the the most entertaining job you can get. Trust me on that. It's boring as hell.” I answer.

“I'm sure it can't be that bad…”

“Well, try arranging around 100 different cans after staying awake for about 72 hours.”

“That is a hard task to put yourself into.”

“Or in other words, trust me on that.”

“Will do.”

Another moment of silence is passed between the two of us. I honestly have no clue why me and him cannot converse without pauses. It's just how it is. Our mundane lifestyle we have formed for around five years.

The sound of something, most likely a pan, falling to the ground in the kitchen wakes us up.

“What was that?” we simultaneously ask.

He pushes me forward and out of the room. “You first.”

“Woooooow… That was the most reassuring piece of information I have ever received…” I sarcastically respond, “I guess we'll go check it out then.” I start tip-toeing to the kitchen, trying not to make a sound.

Under my breath, I quickly mutter to myself: "What the fuck is going on now?.."

Alex follows behind, his own curiosity getting the better of him, still with his trusty blade in hand, quite literally and metaphorically. I hope it doesn't get in our way.

I slowly and quietly open the kitchen door, with much precaution. What we saw on the other side of said door, we definitely were not expecting...