“Hey, buster!” said
Frederica’s Uncle Toby jovially as she walked in through the front door. He
half-leapt, half-climbed over the couch in the front-room, almost falling on
his face because he was dressed in a full chicken outfit. He managed to make it
to her, and rubbed her messy hair back and forth playfully. “How was your first
day of school?”
“It was terrible,” sulked Frederica as she fell into an armchair in the living room.
“Why?” asked Toby, suddenly serious. He sat lightly on his feathers on the couch opposite her. “What happened?” he asked.
“I don’t want to talk about it.”
Toby frowned sadly, his greying eyebrows and goatee only barely visible through the mouth of the chicken head. He opened his mouth, about to press on, and decided to leave it. He made his way to the kitchen.
“Business was great at the store today,” Toby offered quietly from the kitchen. “I think the midnight sale is going to go really well.”
“You do realise you can change out of that stupid thing and then back just before you leave, right?”
“No, it took me about four hours to get it on this morning. It’d be a hassle.” There was a pause as Toby clanked around in the kitchen. “Hey, I made your favourite for dinner. Just say when you’re hungry and I’ll pop it in the oven to finish.”
“My favourite?”
“Chicken pasta bake.”
“Is the pasta wholegrain?”
Toby paused, clearly confused. A few seconds passed during which he located the empty bag, and flipped it over.
“No,” he replied.
Frederica stood up.
“Then I’m not eating it. White pasta is too fattening. I’ll just have a salad when you’re out later.”
Toby did not respond. He just watched her storm up the stairs sadly, his tail feathers drooping.
“It was terrible,” sulked Frederica as she fell into an armchair in the living room.
“Why?” asked Toby, suddenly serious. He sat lightly on his feathers on the couch opposite her. “What happened?” he asked.
“I don’t want to talk about it.”
Toby frowned sadly, his greying eyebrows and goatee only barely visible through the mouth of the chicken head. He opened his mouth, about to press on, and decided to leave it. He made his way to the kitchen.
“Business was great at the store today,” Toby offered quietly from the kitchen. “I think the midnight sale is going to go really well.”
“You do realise you can change out of that stupid thing and then back just before you leave, right?”
“No, it took me about four hours to get it on this morning. It’d be a hassle.” There was a pause as Toby clanked around in the kitchen. “Hey, I made your favourite for dinner. Just say when you’re hungry and I’ll pop it in the oven to finish.”
“My favourite?”
“Chicken pasta bake.”
“Is the pasta wholegrain?”
Toby paused, clearly confused. A few seconds passed during which he located the empty bag, and flipped it over.
“No,” he replied.
Frederica stood up.
“Then I’m not eating it. White pasta is too fattening. I’ll just have a salad when you’re out later.”
Toby did not respond. He just watched her storm up the stairs sadly, his tail feathers drooping.