Newt ~ The Glue

Merry Christmas to you too, darling! And of course, happy New Year!

They were supposed to have been looking at second-option colleges for the next fall semester. Alby had been looking at a college about a half hour or so away from home, figuring it was a good safety-net in case anything should go wrong; and besides, it would be closer to Newt and the rest of his family. Even if it wasn’t the best even in-state college, it was good enough to get an education from and he wouldn’t have to uproot his entire life. When he walked into Newt’s room, as he was often accustomed to doing by now, Alby slung his bag down and dropped into a chair on the other side of the room with a weary sigh, pulling out a computer and showing Newt the home page of the college. “How about here?”

“So I know we didn’t really plan for this, and I never thought I’d get in, but it was Siggy’s suggestion and well, I’m goin’ to take business classes and Fry’s gonna take culinary stuff and then after we’re both done with our schoolin’, we’re gonna come back here and open up a restaurant! I know that it’s a little farther than we planned, but we can skype call each other and I’ll come home during breaks and we’ll see each other then!”

“Boy, you can’t train a goddamn chicken. Have you trained yer cat to stop bein’ Lucifer incarnate? Best I can do is change the locks and hope she don’t pick them with her goddamn feathers I mean Jesus Christ…” he trailed off, mostly talking to himself by this point as he turns to put Maggie securely inside the house and making absolutely positive to shut the door tight behind him. “Nothin’ I can do if she walks through the goddamn walls or somethin’” he muttered, making his way back to where he was standing with Newt. “I need to get this house exorcised or somethin’, maybe a demon’s got a hold of Maggie or somethin’, I dunno man.”

“He ain’t my cat, he’s my mother bloody cat and I hate him just as much as everybody else does.” He replies, crossing his arms over his chest. The boy laughs, not thinking much about it. Fry couldn’t actually be serious. Ghosts  weren’t real and his chicken was definitely not possessed, it was just an animal that belonged outside and knew it.

Siggy leans against his porch railing as he waits for the track runner to get back. He still had no idea how she got out; maybe his ma had been leaving or somethin’ and left the door open too long or she was, in fact, a magic chicken that could teleport at random. Either theory seemed equally likely, as this was at least the fourth time this month this has happened. When Newt returns with his chicken, Fry stands to collect her and hugs her gently between his torso and the crook of his arm, shaking his head a little. “You call my chicken d-i-n-n-e-r again and I might just have to sic ‘er on you, you hear me?” He was joking, of course; Fry would likely cycle through threats until he stop- ped calling her food. He paused a moment, scratching the top of her head before looking back up at Newt, saying, “But hey, thanks man.”

“Yeah an’ you sick ‘er on me and I’ll be letting Buttons have a go at him, see how she likes that.” Newt replies with a grin, crossing his arms over his chest. “And no problem. Just... train your chicken or somethin’ mate. I’m tired of chasin’ her down the street. I do enough runnin’ at track, don’t need to be wearin’ myself out chasing a damn bloody bird down the road every other day.” He honestly  didn’t really mind all that much, but he would prefer that it became a less frequent occurrence.

“God dammit —- Newt!” he called from the front porch of his house. Maggie must have gotten out again somehow and she was halfway down the street by the time he had noticed and hot damn she was moving fast. Fry would never understand why she liked running ar- ound so much when she was often content to sit in his lap watching TV or doing homework or something. “Newt, the chicken’s out again!” he continued cursing his pet under his breath as he waited for the other boy to get his damn skinny ass down here and get his chick- en god damn. Siggy was not a runner and Maggie would practically be Christmas dinner by the time he was able to catch up with her; Newt on the other hand – that boy had some speed. And besides, this wasn’t the first time he’s had to recruit him in hopes of getting his pet back. “Newt, I swear to god…!”

“Again?” He calls from the second floor. Why in the hell did that damn chicken get lose so often? “Did ya leave the door open?” He knows  he didn’t do it, hell, he hadn’t left his room all day. Newt groans as he pauses his video game, slipping on his shoes and jogging down the stairs. “Get out of the bloody way, I swear if that damn chicken gets lose again, imma let someone turn ‘im into dinner.” He says, pushing past Fry and running down the road after the chicken. It doesn’t take him more than twenty seconds to catch up to the run- away bird and he scoops her up lightly, slowing down as he made  sure he had a good hold on Maggie without hurting her. He mumbles something along the lines of ‘stupid bloody bird’ as he walks back  to Fry, handing him his pet chicken. 

what do you think those guys want with Teresa? 

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