Is This Love At First Sight? | John Mulaney x Duolingo Owl

Chapter 1

Lights flashed, flickering like overwhelming pinpricks in John Mulaney's vision. Over that, the muffled cacophony of excitable chatter of a crowd. Not a crowd that should have been overly stimulating, but it was nonetheless. Every sense felt overloaded, each tearing and scratching at his very soul as if fighting for dominance. But all John wanted was silence and darkness.

John Mulaney had just finished another show. No one told him it was going to be hard to be a comedian. But it brought smiles to the audience's shadowed faces in the crowd. He felt he was doing his part to make the world a little better even if that simply meant making some stranger's day a little more amusing. After several years though, it was starting to lose its appeal. His audience found him funny, and so did he, but now the jokes didn't feel as light-hearted anymore. They felt kind of strange coming out his lips, as if the words he uttered knew he didn't truly mean them anymore. That they were masking some generic tragic backstory that fans would create twisted rumours about if they knew one existed. But no, John Mulaney wasn't a sexy, emo anime protagonist with a story to tell. He was simply a guy that figured he would put to use his one good personality trait and get people to pay to experience it. He felt like he had become a meme to the younger generation and he wasn't sure how he felt about that. It was a form of humour, he supposed, and that was what he wanted to input into the world. 

~~

Ever since he had moved out of his parents' house, John had lived alone in a small apartment on the east side of New York. Manhattan had always been his favourite borough and it made him feel a little less alone when he was there. His third-floor apartment felt cold and empty, despite this. It lacked the warmth only company could bring. The apartment felt like him: cold and desolate and dead inside. Even his houseplants were all wilting and growing lifeless faster than his hair. John felt lonely. He hadn't had a partner in ages, male or female. He missed human contact and he had grown accustomed to hugging his pillow every night. He had seriously considered many times whether he should buy a body pillow or not. It was embarrassing the number of nights he had fantasized about doing it. How easy it could be to buy one off eBay, draw a face on it and perhaps wrap it in a scarf to feel more realistic. Hey, even though he was semi-famous now, he never had people over so perhaps it could become a reality. What a sad reality it would be though.

~~

John pondered his life while he sat on the edge of his seat in his dressing room. Being famous wasn't as romantic or whimsically easy as the media made it out to be. He was human, like anyone else and it was honestly exhausting. He felt like the human embodiment of cheese: appealing to some, but not everyone. And to him, all that mattered were the people who didn't like cheese (because it is an abomination that humanity should never have created). But he couldn't ever find those fellow cheese-haters, so John was left cheeseless and lonely, even as his thirty-sixth birthday passed. On that day, he was ashamed to admit he spent the night on his bathroom floor, crying as he ate his way through two cold (cheeseless) pizzas in his underwear (and socks because it was fucking freezing). Judging by this pitiful behaviour, John knew he was destined to be forever alone.

John exhaled a defeated puff of steam. It was still too loud and bright, and he didn't know what to do, so he figured he would get some fresh air. After all, he was a man who was quite fond of the rain, despite it making him even more cold and lonely. He bypassed security and checked to make sure none of the audience were lurking in the alley behind the theatre. The constant screeching and skidding of tyres soundtrack had dulled to a murmur, as fitting background music for the scene. And then, John thought to himself, out the door comes our dashing protagonist with his sweaty palms and crumpled suit.

John sighed fondly, blinking up at the murky sky. He felt a smile on his chapped lips and he released a breath he hadn't realised he'd been holding. He felt his worries wash away in the rain, and his overwhelmed senses suddenly stripped to their bare foundations. This is what it should be like, he thought.

He glanced around in the hazy alley lit by warm, yellow lights. Only darkness and traffic extended beyond that point, suffocating and unwelcoming. John glanced back into the darkness. His eyes shifted, his palms were suddenly aquiver, alarming him that something wasn't right. It seemed he wasn't alone in this alley. He felt like he was being watched. For a moment he spotted the glint of two great big eyes that certainly weren't human. Then he blinked, and they were gone. His senses felt even more heightened than before and every inch of him screamed that he was in danger, that he needed to run. But John stood planted on the spot, unable to move. His whole body trembled with fear as he detected a sound that could have almost been a churr. Definitely not human, he thought. But what the actual hell makes a noise like that?

But before he could rack his brain for an answer, it was presented to him in the form of a freakish beast rushing towards him. In came into the light - a blurry, light-green mass filling his vision.

It stood before him in the warm light and looked at him quizzically. It was the Duolingo owl. It was larger and more realistic than John originally believed, and this terrified him. The owl was five foot and was covered in shaggy, fluorescent lime-green feathers. Its orange beak and wide anime-eyes gave him the impression that it was both innocent and not to be underestimated. Its eyes were unforgiving and penetrating, and he felt as if they could see into one's very soul and know instantly what they desire. But instead of making those desires come true, the Duolingo owl would manage to twist those fantasies into a tantalising life goal of language lesson streaks.

Despite this first reaction, John was strangely drawn towards the owl. He couldn't explain it, but he felt something inside of him that he hadn't known for a long time. Was it love? Was it hopefulness? Was it hunger? How pathetically sad all of those options appeared. But John was strangely intent on finding out what the attraction meant.

The Duolingo owl blinked slowly at him, its head slightly tilted. It churred softly, as if curious. It reached out a wing and, hesitantly, John took it. Definitely real feathers, he mused. He could have sworn he felt an odd feeling when they touched, almost electrifying. But before John could blink, the feeling had disappeared. The owl's wide eyes stared intently at John, as if daring him to utter the first words.

John forced out some syllables. "Uh, uh, hey, I didn't know you were real." Way to go, John thought, now it probably thinks I'm a nervous non-believer. "I- I mean, of course you're real but you're bigger than I imagined?" At this, the Duolingo owl simply clicked its beak. It spoke softly in a raspy, yet also strangely smooth voice: "Well I don't earn a badass reputation and satisfy my hunger by not eating those naughty slackers who don't do their daily lessons." It raised an eyebrow, as if daring John to question whether it was being serious or not. Despite this twisted turn of events, John was even more attracted to the owl. Was John's lack of intimate attention affecting his ability to think clearly around the first love interest that comes into his life? Because John had decided that what he was feeling was presumably love, and he liked it. Without thinking, he rushed forward and hugged the owl, with his head resting on top of the owl's head. It seemed a little awkward and taken aback, but it didn't refuse the hug. After a moment or two, it hugged John back with its large, soft feathers, enveloping him in a sense of warmth he had been lacking for a long time. The owl clicked its beak before whispering, "I don't know exactly what this is, but I think I would like you in my life."