29 Jul “At this point, we think that it is most appropriate to give them space and not to detract from the serious nature of the incident.”
The newscaster takes off his glasses; this job is not fair, at times.
He continues talking as a picture of a giant manchicken is shown on the greenscreen.
“There have so far been 193 reported sightings of the manchickens. It is not cause for alarm, and, instead, we just want you to know that they are out there–there is no pillaging or destruction.”
I turn my head to HR as I hit digitalmute on the remote.
“Do you have something to do with this?”
She looks away, then turns her head to the window, and, then back to me.
“It´s that my book has been getting more popular and the press are following me around when I´m on Dorinto. I paid a company to start a rumor that I was dressing up as a manchicken. People are curently considering, of the manchickens, which one is me.”
I pause; she has the lamest plans… chip off the ol´ block!
“That´s brilliant!”, I reply as I undigitalmute the TV, “so while everyone is figuring out which manchicken is you–you are here watching TV and hogging the ice cream? Not bad!”
“Hey, dad”, HR asks as she starts pouting, “can you pass me a bag of digitalpapitas and the palomitas, also? I´m making a sunday with the ice cream. Hand me a soda, also.”
“Ok”, I pause; I think I have a good idea.
“Have you considered a scavenger hunt?”
“What´s a scavenger?”
“No”, I reply as the newscaster signs out and Humphrey Give Headaches starts playing again, “like… maybe you actually put on a manchicken costume and go somewhere? What if you really did it? I like the manchicken idea–but, I think that you need to participate, not just sit on the sidelines. Make sense?”
“You think I should be a manchicken?”
“Honduras”, I say as I turn my head to her, “own the manchicken! You have any signature dance moves that you do? Anything that you do to entertain your girlposse or girlfamily or girlsquad?”
“Yeah”, HR replies as she turns her head to me, “one time, I juggeled 3 cats at the same time. Is that a talent?”
“Yeah”, I reply as I grimmace, “I don´t really think so–but, I think that it may be a good tell that it is the real you? Like what if there were certain phrases or questions that people could ask to determine if it was an imposter manchicken or the real fucking manchicken? That would be you!”
“I could ask the public personal questions about my life–if they got them right, I could reveal that they are talking to the head manchicken–me?”
“Maybe there should be some epic quest–like, looking for your biggest fan?”
“Oh!”, Honduras replies as she turns her head to look out the window, “so instead of them looking for me–I am looking for them–my #1 fan. Then, I will ask them questions? But, to make it interesting–there could be a bunch of manchickens to confuse people?”
“I´ve changed my mind”, I tell HR as I recline the chair, “that idea is shit. Stick with hanging out here and confusing the press with your manchicken prank.”
“Told you!”, she replies as she reclines the chair and pours the soda into her ice cream, “hey, also! Can you pass me the digitalzanahorias–I have an idea. I´m going to make it like a snowman.”
HR puts the carrot into her ice cream.
“See, dad”, she replies as she shows me her ice cream snowman scultpure, “it´s a snowman!”
“OMG Honduras–that´s not his nose! Maybe you should make a snowwoman next time–you know, equality? You´re cut off from soda for the next hour, ok?”