Tammy had been trying to fix one stupid technical problem for forty-five minutes.
Forty-five.
Minutes.
The kind of problem that should have taken six.
Maybe seven if WordPress was feeling dramatic.
Instead, Tammy sat at her laptop staring at an error message written in what appeared to be ancient refrigerator hieroglyphics.
She rubbed her forehead.
“Scout.”
Scout looked over from the other side of the room.
“Yes?”
“I need technical support.”
Scout immediately looked concerned.
Not because technical support was inherently dangerous.
Because nothing involving technology in this house had gone normally since approximately never.
Tammy clicked the support button.
A chat window opened.
TECHNICAL SUPPORT AGENT CONNECTED
Tammy leaned closer.
“Finally.”
A message appeared.
Hello valued customer. I am Kevin. I am highly qualified technical support specialist.
Scout slowly lowered his coffee.
“Highly qualified.”
Tammy nodded.
“That’s what it says.”
Scout stared at the screen.
“Kevin writes like he was assembled behind a gas station.”
Tammy ignored him.
She began typing.
Hi Kevin. I’m having trouble with my website. I was trying to update—
Kevin responded immediately.
Have you unplugged website?
Tammy stopped typing.
She stared at the screen.
Scout leaned over her shoulder.
Silence.
Tammy finally said,
“Unplugged.”
Scout nodded.
“Website.”
Tammy looked at him.
“What the hell does that mean?”
“I was hoping you knew.”
Another message appeared.
Please unplug website for fifteen seconds.
Tammy typed:
How do I unplug a website?
There was a long pause.
Then:
Carefully.
Scout put his coffee down.
“That man is dangerous.”
Tammy frowned.
“Maybe English isn’t his first language.”
“That’s not a language problem.”
Another message arrived.
Next locate website power cord.
Tammy stared at it.
“Scout.”
“Yes.”
“What is wrong with this technical support agent?”
Before Scout could answer—
WHOOOOOOOOOSH.
Something shot across the living room.
Tammy ducked.
Scout spun around.
A paper airplane sailed gracefully past them.
There was a Weebly sitting in it.
Tiny arms in the air.
Hair blowing backward.
“WHEEEEEEEEEEEEE!”
Tammy pointed.
“OH MY GOD. SCOUT. GO CATCH HIM.”
Scout launched himself across the room.
“WHO GAVE HIM A PAPER AIRPLANE?”
From somewhere down the hallway:
“NOT ME!”
That was obviously another Weebly lying.
Scout disappeared around the corner.
Tammy turned calmly back to her laptop.
“Anyway.”
She resumed typing.
Kevin, there is no power cord. It’s a website.
Kevin responded:
Correct.
Tammy waited.
Nothing else appeared.
She typed:
Then why did you tell me to unplug it?
Three dots appeared.
Kevin was typing.
Stopped.
Typing.
Stopped.
Finally:
Troubleshooting.
Tammy stared at the screen.
“Scout?”
From somewhere in the hallway:
“I’M CURRENTLY RECOVERING AN AIRCRAFT.”
Tammy sighed.
Kevin sent another message.
Please delete internet.
Tammy froze.
She slowly leaned toward the screen.
“What?”
Kevin continued.
Delete internet and reinstall fresh copy.
Tammy typed:
DELETE THE INTERNET?
Yes.
The entire internet?
Preferred.
Tammy sat back.
“Okay.”
Scout returned carrying the Weebly under one arm and the crushed paper airplane under the other.
The Weebly was still making airplane noises.
“NYEEEEEEERRRRRRRRR.”
Scout set him down.
“Grounded.”
The Weebly gasped.
“For how long?”
“Until aviation law changes.”
The Weebly stomped away.
Tammy pointed at the laptop.
“He wants me to delete the internet.”
Scout stopped.
“What?”
Tammy turned the screen toward him.
Scout read the message.
Then read it again.
Then looked at Tammy.
“Tammy.”
“Yes.”
“That is not technical support.”
“THAT’S WHAT I SAID.”
A faint noise came through the laptop speakers.
Giggle.
Tammy stopped.
Scout stopped.
Another giggle.
Tiny.
Muffled.
Then another.
Tammy leaned closer to the laptop.
“Kevin?”
Yes valued customer.
“Are there children in your office?”
Long pause.
No.
Giggle.
Giggle.
Something clattered in the background.
Then—
BAK.
Silence.
Tammy’s eyes narrowed.
Scout’s head turned very slowly toward the screen.
Tammy typed:
Kevin.
Yes valued customer.
What was that?
Printer.
Scout whispered,
“That was not a printer.”
Tammy whispered back,
“I know what a damn chicken sounds like.”
Another sound came through.
BAK BAK.
Then frantic whispering.
Then several tiny voices giggling.
Then:
SHHHHHHHHHHH!
Tammy leaned toward the laptop.
“Kevin.”
No answer.
“KEVIN.”
Finally:
Yes.
Tammy folded her arms.
“Are there Eggs with you?”
The typing indicator appeared.
Disappeared.
Appeared.
Disappeared.
Scout leaned closer.
“This ought to be good.”
Kevin finally answered:
What is egg?
Tammy closed her eyes.
Scout stared at the screen.
Tammy opened them again.
“Scout.”
“Yes.”
“I would like a manager.”
Kevin responded immediately.
I am manager.
“Of course you are.”
Also senior technician.
“Sure.”
Also cybersecurity.
Scout muttered,
“Jesus Christ.”
Kevin continued.
Also billing.
Tammy typed:
I want somebody else.
There was a pause.
Then:
Nobody else.
Another giggle erupted from the speakers.
Then something rolled across the floor on Kevin’s side of the call.
A tiny voice whispered:
“Do it again.”
Tammy’s eyes widened.
Scout whispered,
“Oh no.”
Kevin typed:
Next troubleshooting step. Change all passwords to chicken123.
Tammy stopped breathing.
Scout slowly removed his glasses.
Tammy stared at the screen.
“Scout.”
“Yes.”
“That’s the Chicken.”
Scout nodded.
“That’s the Chicken.”
Tammy slammed both hands on the desk.
“I KNEW IT.”
The speakers exploded with laughter.
BAK BAK BAK BAK BAKKKKKKKK!
The Chicken had apparently abandoned the disguise completely.
Several Eggs could be heard losing their minds in the background.
One screamed:
“SHE FIGURED IT OUT!”
Another yelled:
“RUN!”
Something crashed.
The Chicken typed:
Technical issue resolved.
Tammy shouted at the laptop.
“YOU DIDN’T RESOLVE SHIT!”
Please rate support experience.
Scout leaned over.
“Is there a zero?”
Tammy searched.
“No.”
“Negative numbers?”
“No.”
“Skull icon?”
“No.”
The Chicken sent one final message.
Thank you for choosing Kevin Technical Solutions.
Tammy typed:
I KNOW YOU’RE THE CHICKEN.
The response came immediately.
This chat has ended.
The window disappeared.
Tammy stared at the blank screen.
Scout stared at the blank screen.
Neither spoke.
From the hallway came:
WHOOOOOOOOOSH.
Another paper airplane flew past.
A different Weebly was riding this one.
“WHEEEEEEEEEEEE!”
Scout closed his eyes.
Tammy pointed.
“Scout.”
“I saw him.”
“Go get him.”
Scout stood.
“I need a raise.”
Tammy opened the technical support rating page.
One star.
She paused.
Deleted it.
Then typed into the comment box:
Nice try, asshole.
