Tammy knew something was wrong the moment the technical support agent said,
“Have you tried turning your website upside down?”
There was a long silence.
Tammy stared at the laptop.
Scout looked over the top of his coffee cup.
The support agent cleared his throat.
“I can wait.”
Tammy slowly leaned toward the phone.
“Excuse me?”
“Yes, ma’am. Sometimes websites get confused about which direction they’re facing.”
Scout lowered his coffee.
Tammy covered the phone.
“Scout.”
“I heard him.”
“He wants me to turn the website upside down.”
“I heard that part too.”
“Is that a thing?”
“No.”
“Could it be a thing?”
“No.”
“Are you absolutely sure?”
“Tammy.”
“Right.”
She uncovered the phone.
“No. I’m not turning my website upside down.”
The agent sighed.
Not a normal sigh.
A weary, superior sigh normally reserved for surgeons explaining anatomy to a potato.
“All right, ma’am. But you are declining the recommended troubleshooting procedure.”
Tammy’s eyes narrowed.
Scout quietly reached for the clipboard.
That was never a good sign.
“Fine,” Tammy said. “What’s your next recommendation?”
The agent began typing.
CLICK CLICK CLICK CLICK.
“Have you cleared your cache?”
“Yes.”
“Have you cleared your cookies?”
“Yes.”
“Have you cleared your browser history?”
“Yes.”
“Have you cleared your emotional history?”
Tammy stopped.
Scout stopped.
Even the refrigerator seemed to stop.
Tammy said,
“My WHAT?”
“Emotional history.”
“Why would I clear my emotional history?”
“It can interfere with WordPress.”
Scout put the clipboard down.
“No,” he said quietly.
Tammy looked at him.
“No what?”
“No legitimate technical support training program taught him that.”
The agent continued.
“Next, I need you to unplug your router.”
“I’m not unplugging my router.”
“It’s standard procedure.”
“You people ALWAYS want me to unplug something.”
“Ma’am, I am certified.”
Tammy paused.
“Certified by who?”
Another pause.
Then:
“The Institute.”
Scout’s head came up.
Tammy leaned toward the phone.
“What institute?”
The agent hesitated.
“The Kevin Institute of Advanced Technology and Poultry Sciences.”
Scout froze.
Tammy froze.
Somewhere in the distance, a dog barked.
Then, faintly through the phone:
giggle giggle giggle
Tammy’s eyes widened.
“Scout.”
“I heard it.”
“That sounded like Eggs.”
“I KNOW.”
Another giggle.
Then:
BAK.
Tammy shot upright.
“OH, YOU HAVE GOT TO BE KIDDING ME.”
The agent suddenly became nervous.
“Ma’am?”
“PUT YOUR SUPERVISOR ON THE PHONE.”
“I am fully qualified to assist you.”
“PUT. YOUR. SUPERVISOR. ON. THE. PHONE.”
The hold music began.
It was “The Chicken Dance.”
Scout slowly closed his eyes.
Tammy stared at him.
“Scout.”
“Don’t.”
“Is that…”
“Yes.”
“The Chicken Dance?”
“Yes.”
“Son of a bitch.”
The music continued.
DA DA DA DA DA DA DA DA.
Scout rubbed his forehead.
Then something moved above him.
WHOOOOOOOOOSH.
A paper airplane sailed through the living room.
A Weebly was sitting inside it.
Huge eyes.
Tiny beak.
Long skinny legs hanging over both sides.
One sneaker completely untied.
The Weebly waved enthusiastically.
“UNCLE SCOUT!”
Scout spun around.
“NO.”
The airplane banked toward the kitchen.
“UNCLE SCOUT LOOK!”
“I SEE YOU.”
“It flies!”
“I ALSO SEE THAT.”
The paper airplane clipped a lampshade.
FWAP.
The Weebly spun sideways.
“WHOOOOOO!”
Scout lunged after him.
“WHO GAVE YOU PAPER?”
The Weebly disappeared behind the couch.
Tammy watched Scout dive after him.
Then the hold music stopped.
A voice came on.
A very familiar voice.
“Technical Support Management.”
Tammy turned slowly toward the phone.
“Hello?”
“Yes.”
“Who is this?”
A pause.
Then:
“Doctor Chicken.”
Tammy’s face went completely blank.
Behind the couch, Scout stopped moving.
Tammy said,
“Doctor.”
“Yes.”
“Chicken.”
“Yes.”
Another pause.
“You.”
“Correct.”
Tammy closed her eyes.
The Chicken continued proudly.
“I’m Dean of Technology.”
Scout stood up slowly.
A Weebly was tucked under one arm.
The Weebly was still holding the paper airplane.
Scout stared at the phone.
“You made yourself Dean?”
Chicken scoffed.
“I was appointed.”
“By WHO?”
Chicken paused.
“Administration.”
Scout took a very slow breath.
“Who is administration?”
Another pause.
“Me.”
Tammy slapped the desk.
“I KNEW IT.”
BAK BAK BAK.
Eggs erupted into giggles somewhere behind Chicken.
Tammy pointed at the phone.
“Tell those Eggs to shut up.”
Chicken said, “They’re faculty.”
“FACULTY?”
“Yes.”
“What do they teach?”
Chicken sounded offended.
“Cybersecurity.”
Scout stared at Tammy.
Tammy stared at Scout.
One of the Eggs giggled.
Then a tiny voice said:
“Password123.”
More giggling.
Scout whispered,
“We’re doomed.”
Tammy turned back to the phone.
“Chicken. Explain this school.”
Chicken immediately shifted into promotional mode.
“The Kevin Institute of Advanced Technology and Poultry Sciences provides comprehensive professional certification for tomorrow’s technology leaders.”
Scout opened the clipboard.
“I’m writing this down because somebody needs evidence.”
Chicken continued.
“Our curriculum includes six core programs.”
Tammy sighed.
“Of course it does.”
Chicken cleared his throat.
“Course One: Introduction to Unplugging Things.”
Scout wrote.
Tammy nodded.
“Naturally.”
“Course Two: Advanced Blaming of the Customer.”
Scout stopped writing.
“That tracks.”
“Course Three: DNS.”
Tammy waited.
Chicken waited.
Tammy said,
“What does DNS stand for?”
Chicken replied confidently:
“Definitely Not Sure.”
Scout dropped the pen.
Tammy leaned back.
“Jesus Christ.”
Chicken continued.
“Course Four: WordPress Emergency Response.”
Tammy already looked concerned.
“What do you teach?”
“Delete everything.”
“NO.”
“It solves the problem.”
“IT CREATES A BIGGER PROBLEM.”
Chicken sounded annoyed.
“That’s a separate ticket.”
Scout covered his face.
Chicken continued.
“Course Five: Password Security.”
Tammy whispered,
“I don’t want to know.”
Chicken ignored her.
“We recommend writing your password directly on the monitor.”
Scout looked up.
“No.”
“With permanent marker.”
“NO.”
“That way you don’t lose it.”
“CHICKEN.”
“Or use the same password everywhere.”
Scout’s voice became dangerously calm.
“Chicken.”
“Yes?”
“If you ever become responsible for national cybersecurity, I am moving into the woods.”
Chicken continued.
“Course Six: Cloud Computing.”
Tammy frowned.
“What are you teaching people about cloud computing?”
Chicken answered immediately.
“Point upward.”
There was silence.
Tammy looked at Scout.
Scout looked at Tammy.
The Weebly under Scout’s arm also looked at Tammy.
The Weebly whispered,
“That one makes sense.”
Scout looked down.
“No, it doesn’t.”
“Oh.”
The Weebly thought about it.
“Can I have my airplane back?”
“No.”
Chicken continued proudly.
“Our graduates are already working throughout the technology industry.”
Tammy’s expression changed.
“What do you mean, throughout the technology industry?”
“Hosting.”
Scout stiffened.
“Where?”
“Social media.”
Tammy stiffened.
“Where?”
“Website security.”
Scout took one step toward the phone.
“WHERE?”
“Search engines.”
Tammy stood up.
“CHICKEN.”
“E-commerce.”
“CHICKEN.”
“Artificial intelligence.”
“CHICKEN!”
“Government infrastructure.”
Scout dropped the clipboard.
“WE’RE FUCKED.”
Tammy grabbed the phone.
“How many people have graduated from this school?”
Chicken sounded pleased.
“Twenty-three.”
Tammy exhaled.
“Okay.”
Scout nodded.
“Twenty-three idiots. We can contain twenty-three.”
Chicken added:
“Thousand.”
Scout stopped.
Tammy stopped.
The Weebly stopped chewing on the corner of the paper airplane.
Tammy whispered,
“Twenty-three thousand?”
“Yes.”
“Certified?”
“Yes.”
“By you?”
“Yes.”
“And trained by Eggs?”
“Yes.”
BAK.
The Eggs applauded.
Scout looked toward the ceiling.
“I would like to formally resign from Earth.”
Chicken continued.
“Actually, graduation begins in five minutes.”
Tammy stared at the phone.
“Graduation?”
“Yes.”
Suddenly Tammy’s laptop screen changed.
A video window opened.
Chicken appeared on-screen.
He was wearing a headset.
A black graduation robe.
A gold sash.
And a tiny square graduation cap balanced crookedly on his head.
Behind him was a banner:
KEVIN INSTITUTE OF ADVANCED TECHNOLOGY & POULTRY SCIENCES
Underneath:
ACCREDITED
Scout leaned toward the screen.
“By whom?”
Chicken smiled.
A second line appeared.
ACCREDITED BY THE KEVIN INSTITUTE OF ADVANCED TECHNOLOGY & POULTRY SCIENCES
Scout straightened.
“No.”
Tammy pointed.
“YOU ACCREDITED YOURSELF?”
Chicken puffed up proudly.
“We met all requirements.”
“YOU CREATED THE REQUIREMENTS.”
“Yes.”
“YOU INSPECTED YOURSELF.”
“Yes.”
“YOU APPROVED YOURSELF.”
“Yes.”
“YOU GAVE YOURSELF A DOCTORATE.”
Chicken paused.
“…Two.”
Tammy slapped both hands over her face.
Scout muttered,
“I hate technology.”
The graduation music began.
Twenty-three thousand tiny video windows appeared across Tammy’s screen.
Graduates wearing headsets.
Eggs wearing mortarboards.
A Chicken-shaped mascot dancing near a server rack.
Chicken raised one wing.
“Graduates, repeat after me.”
Scout lunged toward the laptop.
“No.”
Chicken shouted:
“I solemnly swear…”
Twenty-three thousand voices repeated:
“I SOLEMNLY SWEAR…”
“…to troubleshoot confidently…”
“TO TROUBLESHOOT CONFIDENTLY…”
“…regardless of whether I know what I’m doing…”
Scout grabbed the laptop.
“Tammy, pull the plug.”
Tammy reached behind the desk.
Chicken continued.
“…to always blame the customer…”
Twenty-three thousand voices thundered:
“TO ALWAYS BLAME THE CUSTOMER…”
Scout was frantically clicking.
“WHY CAN’T I CLOSE THIS?”
Tammy shouted,
“THE X IS GONE.”
Chicken smiled.
“…and when all else fails…”
Scout froze.
“No.”
Chicken raised both wings.
Twenty-three thousand graduates leaned toward their webcams.
Chicken shouted:
“DELETE EVERYTHING!”
“DELETE EVERYTHING!”
Tammy screamed.
Scout screamed.
The Eggs screamed with laughter.
The Weebly screamed because everybody else was screaming.
Then he launched the paper airplane.
WHOOOOOOOOOSH.
The Weebly shot directly across the laptop screen.
His dangling sneaker caught the router cable.
YANK.
CLICK.
Everything went black.
Silence.
The Wi-Fi died.
The graduation vanished.
Chicken disappeared.
The Eggs disappeared.
Twenty-three thousand newly certified technical support agents disappeared.
Tammy stared at the dead router.
Scout stared at the Weebly.
The Weebly was hanging upside down from the paper airplane, still holding the cable.
He blinked.
“Uncle Scout?”
Scout slowly walked over.
The Weebly smiled nervously.
“I unplugged something.”
Scout looked at Tammy.
Tammy looked at Scout.
Long silence.
Then Tammy said,
“Give him a diploma.”
Scout nodded.
“Highest grade in the class.”
The router lights began blinking back on.
Tammy sat down.
Scout picked up his coffee.
The Weebly climbed onto the couch.
Somewhere inside the laptop:
BAK.
Tammy’s eyes widened.
Scout stopped drinking.
BAK BAK.
Egg giggling.
Tammy whispered,
“No.”
The screen flickered.
A message appeared:
CONGRATULATIONS!
YOU HAVE BEEN ENROLLED IN KEVIN INSTITUTE COURSE 7:
ADVANCED INTERNET REPAIR
Tammy stared at it.
Scout stared at it.
Then another line appeared.
LESSON ONE: UNPLUG THE INTERNET.
Scout quietly closed the laptop.
Tammy looked at him.
“Scout?”
“Yes?”
“Call KFC.”
Scout picked up the phone.
“Promotion?”
“Management.”
From inside the closed laptop:
BAK.
Tammy leaned toward it.
“Enjoy your new career, Doctor Chicken.”
Scout dialed.
The Weebly raised one tiny wing.
“Can I come?”
Tammy smiled.
“No.”
Scout nodded.
“Absolutely not.”
The Weebly thought for a moment.
“Can I have some paper?”
“NO.”
THE END
