The Jokester

Chapter 8: Failure Is Not An Option

Trigger Warnings For This Chapter: Cursing, Implied/Reference Homelessness, And Angry Outbursts

   Normally, strips of light peeking through his blinds awakened Brain, but instead, it was the scent of bubblegum. Bubblegummm, Pinky... Pinky! Brain sat up and looked down to see Pinky snoring at his side. "Oh my God, last night was real." Brain whispered to himself in disbelief. He had thought it was all some crazy dream.

   Pinky felt Brain's movements and woke up with wide eyes. Where was he?! He pushed himself off the bed with a yell as he backed up into a wall.

   Brain looked over the edge of the bed with a gasp. "Pinky!? What? What's wrong?!"

   Pinky's heart rate slowed down as his body realized there was no danger. Quite the opposite, in fact. When you were homeless... you had to be ready for anything, especially while asleep. Even with 'nice' women needing a place to rest. Pinky shook away the nasty thought and smiled. He was in Brain's apartment! Last night was real! Pinky stood up and walked over to sit on the edge of the bed. "Sorry, Brain. I'm not used to waking up in a bed....dddddd that's not my own. Zort!"

   Brain glanced over at his alarm clock. 8:00 a.m. Not bad. He acknowledged Pinky's statement with a hum. Made sense. Brain was shocked himself when he awoke. He stretched and rubbed his arm. Now what? He was planning to take over the world today. He couldn't possibly do that with Pinky here, right?

   Pinky stretched and was back off the bed once more. His stomach growled painfully, and he bent over. "Oof, tummy."

   Brain noticed this and eyed Pinky up and down. He was pretty thin... not too scarily thin. But enough to raise concern. You'd have to be pretty damn hungry for it to make you double over. "Say, Pinky, why don't you watch some TV in the living room, and I'll make us some breakfast? How do you like your eggs?"

   At the mention of breakfast, Pinky's mouth watered. Food. Eggs. Protein... wait, what? "What do you mean? Like from which bird I like them from?"

   Brain looked at Pinky curiously. Was he being serious or silly... "I mean, like, how do you like them cooked."

   Pinky scratched his head. How many ways could you cook an egg? It was just with heat, right? "Uh... I guess anyways is good. Troz!"

   Brain shrugged and led them out of the room. He got Pinky situated on the loveseat and turned on the TV for him. "Here, you can watch some television while I make our eggs."

   Pinky smiled. "Okay. Thank you so much, Brain! You're very kind to make us breakfast! Narf!" He couldn't wait to see what kind of cooked eggs he would eat. Pinky looked at the TV and noticed it was different from last time. It was smaller and definitely not the same one.

   Brain blushed and looked at a clock on the wall. Six minutes. They'd been up six minutes, and Pinky was already a ray of sunshine. He patted Pinky on the shoulder and headed into the kitchen.

   He took out four eggs... but then decided on six instead. He was only going to eat two, but Pinky certainly needed more than two. Even if he wasn't thin. Brain remembered that tall people required more nutrients because of their bodies' additional workload.

   Brain grumbled down at his gut bump. He wished he could eat large portions with minimal consequences. He lit the stove and cracked the eggs. As the eggs sizzled, he reached into his cabinet for salt, pepper, and plates.

   Pinky had been watching a man named Murphy talking to a live audience. Pinky had to admit, he was very charismatic... but also a bit stuck-up. While Pinky's eyes were glued to the screen, the scent of the salted eggs sizzling enveloped his senses. Food. Pinky looked over and tried to peek behind the barrier between the rooms. Whichever way Brain was cooking them, it smelled amazing.