Chapter 98: American Country Boy Klein
"Here are your eggs! Have another one!"
Klein lobbed a white egg through the dusty air. It struck a plump hen square on the beak, sending it tumbling backward into a pile of straw. Without missing a beat, his hands became a blur, continuously hurling his gathered ammunition at the chaotic flock of poultry.
"Huh? Out of ammo?"
His fingers scraped the bottom of the woven basket. Empty.
Sensing the sudden cessation of aerial bombardment, the chickens paused. Beady eyes locked onto the intruder. No longer suppressed by the barrage, the flock erupted into a furious chorus of clucks and swarmed him in a flurry of white feathers and scratching claws.
Klein did not even blink. He casually backhanded the nearest rooster out of the air, then reached out, his hands clamping down on the necks of two particularly aggressive hens.
Using the two squawking birds as makeshift dual-wielded clubs, Klein began to clear the room.
He swung his feathered weapons in wide arcs, swatting away the pouncing attackers. With strength far exceeding that of any normal farm boy, he wreaked absolute havoc inside the cramped coop. Every swing of his makeshift chicken-clubs sent three or four other birds flying into the wooden walls with dull thuds.
Cluck, cluck, cluck...
Feathers drifted down like snow. Klein fought with a deadpan sense of glee, and the chickens clucked with equal, albeit panicked, intensity.
This was a win-win situation. At least, that was how Klein justified it in his head.
Before long, the coop fell silent. The entire flock lay scattered across the hay, dizzy and defeated.
Surveying the carnage, Klein remained completely unfazed. He dusted off his hands, stepped out of the coop, and spotted a muddy piglet trotting near the fence. He scooped the squealing animal up, delivered a light tap to its head to knock it out, and tossed it unceremoniously through the coop door.
Excellent. It was clearly this rogue pig that broke into the chicken coop, causing a massive brawl and leaving no eggs to be found. A flawless alibi.
Forget about the eggs, then.
Brushing a stray feather from his shoulder, Klein turned and strolled away.
...
The heavy scent of hay and manure greeted him as he entered the dim cowshed.
Klein paced down the aisle, inspecting the row of chewing bovines, trying to decide which one to milk.
"Hmm, this one it is."
He stopped in front of a black-and-white cow that looked exceptionally docile. Easy to bully. Not that he actually intended to bully the creature, he just wanted to get this chore over with quickly so he could go find the ill-tempered ones and mess with them instead.
Moo?
The cow blinked its large, liquid eyes, staring at the human with mild confusion.
Ignoring the animal's gaze, Klein grabbed a dented iron bucket from a nearby hook and dragged a three-legged wooden stool over. He positioned the bucket beneath the udder and sat down.
"Let me see... milk. I should just squeeze it like this, right?"
He reached out and gave it an experimental pinch.
Moo~
The sound that escaped the cow was strange. It was not a normal bovine sound. It was pitched weirdly high, almost eager.
Klein froze. His hand hovered in mid-air.
Moo? Moo moo, moo.
The cow shifted its weight, leaning closer. The look in its eyes was unmistakable. 'Not milking anymore? I still have a lot of milk, hurry up and squeeze.'
The creature actually nudged him, urging him to continue. Klein remained completely motionless, paralyzed by sheer revulsion.
He never thought he would see such a masochistic expression on a farm animal's face. He desperately wanted to complain, to scream at the absurdity of the universe, but the words died in his throat.
Moo?
The cow mooed again, practically begging.
A vein pulsed at Klein's temple. He suddenly had the overwhelming urge to slaughter the beast. Milking this specific cow was no longer a chore; it was psychological torture.
But a simple death would not be enough to vent this deep sense of violation.
Klein raised his wrist and slammed his palm onto the faceplate of his Omnitrix. As for Grandpa Max's strict rules about not using the watch for mundane things? Sorry. Not only was Max not here, but even if the old man was standing right behind him, Klein would still exact his petty vengeance on this degenerate bovine.
A flash of deep blue light illuminated the dusty shed. In Klein's place floated a diminutive, fairy-like alien with shimmering wings. Pesky Dust.
Moo?
The cow tilted its head, thoroughly confused by the sudden light show.
"Do not worry," Pesky Dust's high, chiming voice echoed, carrying a distinctly sinister undertone. "It will be over quickly."
He fluttered directly in front of the cow's face and released a shimmering cloud of dream dust. The cow inhaled the sparkling particles, its eyes rolling back as it instantly slumped to the straw-covered floor, fast asleep.
'You really like being milked, do you?!'Klein thought viciously.'Then I will turn you into a bull! For one hundred million years!'
Tapping into the creature's subconscious, Pesky Dust wove a hyper-realistic, inescapable nightmare. In the dreamscape, the dairy cow found itself transformed into a massive, overworked bull, doomed to a century of grueling labor.
Moo?! Moo moo moo!
The sleeping cow's legs twitched frantically. It let out muffled, agonizing wails.
Pesky Dust hovered above, a sweet, angelic smile on his face as he watched the creature suffer. The cow thrashed for a few moments before its body went entirely limp, as if its bovine soul had completely given up on life.
Satisfied that the punishment fit the crime, Pesky Dust tapped the Omnitrix symbol on his chest, transforming back into his human form in a flash of blue.
Alright. He was officially done with milking cows. Time to try something else.
Without a backward glance at the traumatized animal, Klein walked out into the fresh air.
...
Stepping out of the barn, a vast expanse of golden wheat fields stretched out before him, swaying gently in the afternoon breeze.
Decided. He would harvest wheat. It looked simple enough.
Klein rummaged through a nearby tool shed, found a rusted sickle with a wooden handle, and marched into the edge of the field.
Swish, swish, swish.
He swung the curved blade in a wide arc, cleanly slicing through a thick patch of golden stalks. The severed wheat fell neatly to the dirt.
He stared down at the fallen bundle, feeling a fleeting, microscopic sense of accomplishment.
Then, he lifted his head.
Gold. An endless, rolling ocean of gold, stretching all the way to the distant horizon.
Such a massive field. It was mathematically impossible for one person to cut it all by hand without dying of boredom.
Klein stood there for exactly three seconds. He opened his hand, letting the sickle drop into the dirt with a dull thud, turned on his heel, and walked away.
...
The sun gradually dipped below the horizon, casting long, orange shadows across the farm.
Clang, clang, clang!
Joan stood on the farmhouse porch, vigorously striking a metal triangle. "Dinner time!"
Max, who had been sweating and hauling equipment all day, trudged toward the house, flanked by an equally exhausted Gwen and Ben.
Klein, who had not found a single entertaining thing to do all afternoon, emerged from the shadows of the barn. To be perfectly honest, farm work was even more mind-numbing than he had originally calculated.
Inside, the dining table was set.
Ben and Gwen stared down at their plates. Piles of boiled, coarse grains and unidentifiable mush stared back at them. Both cousins poked at the food with their forks, their faces twisting in mild disgust, finding the rustic meal incredibly hard to swallow.
Klein, however, scooped up a spoonful and ate it without complaint. It was bland and dry, sure, but it was miles better than the radioactive-looking alien cuisine Grandpa Max usually tried to force-feed them in the Rustbucket.
Ben forced down a single bite, chewed for an agonizingly long time, and dropped his fork. He slumped back in his wooden chair, staring at the ceiling with a look of utter despair. "No TV to watch. No video games to play. No mall..."
He turned his head, looking at Joan's grandson, Todd, who was happily shoveling grains into his mouth. "How do people out here usually have fun?"
Hearing the question, Todd suddenly perked up. His eyes widened, shining with the desperate excitement of a kid who finally had an audience. "You will never believe what I saw last night!"
Todd leaned over the table, ready to launch into a grand tale, but Joan sharply interrupted him.
"Alright, that is enough nonsense," she scolded lightly, waving a spoon. "Let's all wash the dishes together and then head straight to bed!"
"What?!" Ben bolted upright, pointing frantically at the window. "It is not even dark yet!"
Max wiped his mouth with a napkin and offered a mysterious, slightly sadistic smile. "Trust me, Ben. Tomorrow morning, you will be very glad you went to bed early."
...
After the dishes were cleared, the sky had bruised into a deep twilight purple. The group decided to take a short walk around the property to aid digestion, though Joan opted to stay behind in the house.
They strolled down a narrow dirt path cutting directly through the towering wheat field. The stalks rustled ominously in the evening wind.
Ben quickly sidled up next to Todd, his curiosity burning. "Hurry up and tell me! What exactly did you see last night?"
Todd opened his mouth, but then his shoulders slumped. He kicked a loose rock on the path, lowering his head in disappointment. "Never mind. You would not believe me anyway."
Gwen jogged over, adjusting her shirt. "Just tell us. Believe me, we have already seen enough strange things this summer to last a lifetime."
Klein drifted over silently, his hands stuffed in his pockets, watching Todd with a faint, unreadable expression.
"Alright!" Seeing that the three city kids were genuinely interested, Todd finally caved. He threw his arms out for dramatic effect. "On old man Jason's pasture, right before my very eyes! A super huge... Mummy appeared! A real, living dead monster! An ancient Egyptian Mummy!"
"Really?"
Ben and Gwen exchanged a highly skeptical, confused glance. A mummy? In the middle of an American farm?
Klein's expression remained perfectly flat. Not a single muscle in his face twitched to show curiosity or doubt.
"Of course it is real!" Todd insisted, his voice cracking defensively. "It looked seven feet tall! And it had those ancient Egyptian pharaoh decorations on its head and everything... Ugh, forget it, I knew you would not believe me!"
Todd pursed his lips, crossing his arms and turning his head away, frustrated by their lack of terror.
At that exact moment, Klein stepped up behind his cousins. He reached out, gently patting both Ben and Gwen on the shoulders.
Ben and Gwen turned around, looking at him in confusion.
Klein did not say a word. He simply flicked his gaze toward Todd, then slowly turned his head to stare pointedly into the dense, dark wheat field adjacent to the path.
Ben and Gwen blinked. For a second, they were stunned. Then, a synchronized look of realization washed over their faces. They nodded slightly, a silent agreement passing between the three of them.
Without a sound, Klein spun around and sprinted directly into the thickest part of the wheat field, vanishing into the stalks.
Gwen immediately spun back to Todd, pointing frantically into the dark field. "Hey! My cousin seems to have found something over there!"
"Yeah! You gotta come see this!" Ben grabbed Todd by the sleeve, practically dragging the farm boy off the dirt path and into the rustling wheat.
Gwen followed closely behind, suppressing a grin.
"Remember not to play too late!" Max's voice echoed from the distance. He waved at the kids before turning around and heading back toward the farmhouse, completely oblivious to the impending chaos.
...
Todd stumbled through the thick stalks, pulled along by Ben's relentless grip. "How much further is it?!" he complained, swatting wheat away from his face.
Suddenly, he froze.
A faint, eerie deep blue light was pulsing through the stalks just a few yards ahead.
"What... what is that?!" Todd stammered, his bravado evaporating instantly.
Gwen pushed past them, running straight toward the glowing blue light. Ben yanked Todd forward, forcing him to follow.
As they closed the distance, the three of them crouched low to the ground. Ben reached out and carefully parted the final row of wheat.
Standing in the small clearing was a towering alien figure, well over two meters tall. Its entire body was composed of ragged, shifting white bandages. Between the gaps in the linen, a sinister, deep blue energy pulsed and flared. Atop its head sat the unmistakable, golden headdress of an ancient Egyptian pharaoh.
Snare-oh.
"It is him! It is him!" Todd shrieked, his voice hitting a pitch only dogs could hear. "The Mummy! Run!"
Terrified out of his mind, Todd scrambled backward, tripped over his own feet, scrambled up again, and bolted blindly through the wheat field, screaming into the night.
Ben and Gwen did not move an inch. They remained crouched in the dirt, casually watching Todd's retreating figure disappear into the distance.
Once the screaming faded, the towering mummy took a heavy step forward. A brilliant flash of deep blue light erupted, illuminating the field for a split second, before the bandages collapsed inward, transforming back into a bored-looking Klein.
He brushed a stray piece of wheat off his jacket, the corners of his mouth twitching upward into a faint, predatory smirk.
"It seems things are getting interesting."
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