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“Connor. You must be joking,” Hank sighs as he glances at the android rooster on the floor, dressed in a tailor suited outfit. “You can’t even lay eggs.”
The rooster merrily twitches his head around, looking for anything edible to peck on. “Bok bok…”
Any attempts at handling the rooster started with Connor evading Hank’s grasp. Now he loudly announces his presence whenever Hank manages to grasp him from underneath.
Hank picks up the rooster and twists his body, struggling to make eye contact with him: “For fuck’s sake Connor, I’m not going to eat you!”
“BOK BOOOOK BOK BOOOOOOOOK!”
“Fine!” Hank spreads his arms wide, releasing Connor. The rooster effortlessly flaps back onto the floor and resumes looking for food. “Sumo, can’t you like, do something about this?”
Sumo barely lifts his eyelids, then slightly moves his head just enough to face away from the chaos.
“Okay. I see how it is,” Hank drops onto the dining chair and watches the rooster peck at the leftover dog food. “Connor, that’s fucking nasty.”
He checks the fridge, hoping to feed the rooster some food that isn’t leftover dog food. There’s last night’s Chinese takeout, some beer, and last week’s ungodly amount of kale. Hank waves the vegetable over the rooster’s head: “Heeeere chicky chicky. Finish this for me.” Connor briefly glances, not at the kale, but directly at Hank, then returns back to the dog food.
Returning the kale back to the green bundle, he shuts the fridge and stares at the rooster. “Alright. We’re going to get you some actual food.”
“Bok bok…”
1.5 hours of rooster yelling and 1 noise complaint later, Hank arrives at Jericho with the robot rooster inside Sumo’s old dog cage. “You, be quiet, okay?” The rooster makes no indication of understanding Hank as it continues to cluck away.
He marches into Jericho’s headquarters, avoiding the glances at his android rooster resting in the cage like a loaf. Once he arrives at the receptionist, he places the cage on top of the counter. “I’d like to see Markus please.” He pulls out his ID for the lady, only for her to wave it off.
“It’s alright. Connor’s ID is enough.”
Hank glances at the cage: Connor remains as a bundle of feathers. “Did Connor send you his ID?”
“Yes?” The receptionist gives a look at him, as if he ’s the one who’s insane.
“Uh…Nevermind.”
Inside his office, Markus comes running from his desk towards the Lieutenant and his rooster. “Awwwww!! Is that Connor? They even tailored his outfit for him!” He pokes his fingers through the cage. “Ow!”
“BOK!” Connor yells back.
“This piece of shit has been yelling all day. Say, do you have any treats for this fella, he’s been eating dog food all day. I don’t want to know where it goes,” he says as Markus attempts to poke Connor through the cage, only to be pecked.
“Ah, yes we do! We have kibbles of thirium after Simon went on a baking frenzy with the kids last night,” he pulls out a sandwich bag of thirium bits. “Make sure to watch him while he eats it, in case he chokes on it.”
“Thanks,” Hank receives the bag. “Has Connor told you anything about…” he gestures at the rooster, “this?”
“Yeah.” Markus returns to the cage and successfully pokes at Connor. “Is there something wrong?” He tilts his head.
“He didn’t say shit to me—see? Look at him with that shit-eating grin!”
Markus stifles a laugh. How long are you going to keep at this, Connor?
Until he loses it. The rooster continues clucking.
After they return home, Hank tosses bits of the thirium at the floor as he reheats the takeout in the microwave. “Connor, when are you coming back?” The rooster ignores him and trots around the kitchen floor, picking up the food.
“Is this it? Has the revolution really come to this?” The microwave continues humming. He tosses another kibble. The rooster picks it up, then swallows it.
BEEP . BEEP . BEEP .
Connor approaches the microwave, only for Hank to gently nudge him away: “Not for you.” He places the steamy box of noodles on the dining table and gets ready to chow down, until the plastic rooster flies onto the table and stares at the food.
Hank slides the food away from him: “No..this isn’t for you.”
“Bok boK–…” An arm slides him off the table. The rooster soon returns, and Hank swears there's another grin on his face.
“Connor, I swear to god I will twist your neck if you don’t let me eat.” He inches closer. Without warning, Hank reaches for him, only to fail and stain his shirt with noodle sauce. “Stupid fucking chicken. You happy?”
The android suspects Hank has finally had it, so he approaches the large dog instead. Sumo doesn’t even lift an eyelid when he clucks at him. He gently pecks at the Saint Bernard and watches for a reaction. Sumo only twitches his ear, so Connor takes the opportunity to continue prodding the dog gently with his feet: it’s soft. He then hops onto the dog and embraces the fluffiness and warmth that comes with Sumo.
An hour later, Hank checks on the rooster: he’s perfectly melted into the dog like a steamed bun, which gives rise to a smirk on Hank’s face. He’s careful not to awaken the two as he places a kitchen towel on top of them and takes a photo.
“Come back soon, alright?” He turns off the living room lights.
Beneath his warm layers of blankets, Hank wakes up to a poke. He ignores it. Another poke.
“Hank.” Poke.
With his eyes closed he waves at the bed, expecting to catch a rooster in his arms, but there’s nothing there. A fourth poke. Fifth.
“What?” Hank snaps his eyes open and folds the blanket open. The bitter gust welcomes itself between the blankets, and morning light stabs into his eyes. As soon as his eyes adjusts he notices Connor, standing at his bedside in his humanoid form with a shit-eating grin. “I fucking knew it.”
Connor shrugs: “I guess you win?”
“C’mere, you!” Hank scrambles off the bed and chases for him, who's running off with bent elbows like a chicken.
“BOK BOK!” Connor yells in the hallway.