The sun dipped below the horizon, bleeding a deep, bruised red across the sky. Heavy, unnatural storm clouds gathered overhead, their dark bellies illuminated by the constant, erratic flash of purple lightning.
Somewhere on the outskirts of a sprawling farm, three young boys crouched in the dirt. They jammed thick wooden branches under a rusted barbed-wire fence, prying it upward just enough to scrape their way through the gap.
Two older, heavier-set kids took the lead, swaggering through the tall grass. Trailing behind them was a much smaller boy, his arms wrapped tightly around a squirming piglet. He cast nervous glances at the encroaching shadows.
"Hey, guys... how about we just go back?" he asked, his voice trembling slightly.
The kid in the front, sporting a messy afro, stopped and threw a mocking glare over his shoulder. "If you're scared, then run home! If you're afraid of a stupid cow pasture, you're just a giant baby!"
His buddy, a kid with a terrible bowl cut, snickered and nodded. "Yeah, Todd. If you're gonna cry, just leave!"
Todd pressed his lips into a thin, stubborn line. He hiked the piglet higher against his chest and stomped forward. He was the youngest by far, clad in faded denim overalls caked with dried mud, clearly the only one actually used to farm chores.
Seeing Todd refuse to back down, the bowl-cut kid pointed toward a massive, sleeping dairy cow a few yards away. "Then you go first. Push the cow's butt. Tip it over."
"Unless you want to go back to your mommy for a pacifier," the afro kid sneered, shoving his thumb into his mouth and making loud, obnoxious sucking noises.
Todd scowled, his cheeks flushing hot. He marched right past the two bullies, stepping carefully through the muck until he stood directly behind the massive, chewing dairy cow. He planted his boots, extended his small hands, and shoved against the beast's rear with all his might.
The piglet dropped to the dirt, trotting up behind Todd and pressing its little snout against his leg, trying to help push.
Unsurprisingly, the combined might of a muddy grade-schooler and a baby pig did absolutely nothing to the thousand-pound animal. The cow merely shifted its weight. Todd's boots lost traction in the wet mud, and he went tumbling backward, landing flat on his rear with a wet squelch.
The two older boys immediately doubled over, howling with cruel laughter.
But then, their laughter abruptly died.
The afro kid's eyes bulged, locking onto something in the shadows just beyond the cow. The bowl-cut kid went completely pale. A high-pitched, terrified scream ripped from their throats.
"Ahhhh!"
They spun on their heels and sprinted blindly toward the fence, abandoning Todd without a second thought.
The piglet let out a panicked squeal, its tiny hooves scrambling in the mud as it bolted in the opposite direction.
"Hey! Where are you guys going?!" Todd yelled, his voice cracking with sudden panic. He scrambled to his knees, but the boys and the pig had already vanished into the gloom.
A heavy, unnatural silence fell over the pasture. Slowly, Todd turned his head.
A towering, gaunt figure stood just a dozen yards away, perfectly still.
Boom!
A massive fork of purple lightning shattered the sky. The blinding flash illuminated the intruder. The figure slowly turned its head, revealing a hollow, decaying face wrapped in ancient, tattered bandages.
It was a Mummy.
"Oh my god!" Todd shrieked, scrambling to his feet and running for his life into the dark.
The next morning, the Rustbucket trundled down a winding country highway. Lush green pine forests and rolling hills stretched out on either side, bathed in the bright, cheerful light of a perfect summer day.
Despite the gorgeous weather, the atmosphere inside the RV was incredibly bleak. Klein, Ben, and Gwen sat in the back, radiating pure, unadulterated misery. None of them had the slightest desire to reach their current destination.
Grandpa Max glanced at the rearview mirror, taking in the three slouching, depressed teenagers. "Hey now! Don't look so gloomy back there! I'm sure you kids are going to love it."
"Oh, give me a break!" Ben groaned, tossing his handheld game console onto the table. His sour mood had completely ruined his focus anyway. "Who in their right mind actually likes doing hard manual labor on a farm all day?!"
Gwen crossed her arms, nodding in vehement agreement. "Exactly! And it's an entire week of farm camp. Dirt, bugs, and chores. A whole week."
Sitting by the window, Klein stared up at the blue sky with a look of deep, existential despair. He genuinely could not comprehend the logic. Why would anyone willingly pay money to go to a camp just to suffer through physical labor?
'Damn it,'Klein thought, his eyes narrowing slightly.'If that's how it's going to be, don't blame me.'A dark, lazy amusement began to bubble up inside him.'Heh... it's perfectly normal for city-slicker beginners to accidentally mess everything up while trying to do farm chores, right?'The deeply unhappy Klein began drafting a careful plan of sabotage. When they told him to pick corn, he would rip the stalks out by the roots. When they told him to collect eggs, he would start a fistfight with the hens. When they told him to milk the cows, he would just terrorize the bovines until they chased him away.'Hmm,'Klein mused, a faint, trollish smirk touching his lips.'They say labor and income are equivalent. Since Grandpa paid money for this, my income is technically negative. Therefore, my labor output must also be negative. It's just basic economics.'
By early afternoon, the Rustbucket rolled down a dusty dirt road cutting straight through a massive, golden wheat field. The stalks swayed gently in the warm breeze, glowing under the bright sun.
The RV finally groaned to a halt in front of a large, rustic wooden farmhouse. Grandpa Max killed the engine and stepped out, enthusiastically gesturing for Klein, Ben, and Gwen to follow.
A sturdy-looking farm woman walked out to greet them. Trailing behind her was a young boy who looked like he spent ninety percent of his life rolling in dirt. He was clutching a squirming little piglet to his chest.
The woman wiped her hands on her apron and offered a polite, weary smile. "Hello there. My name is Joan, and this is my son, Todd. I assume you folks are the Tennysons?"
Grandpa Max stepped forward, shaking Joan's hand with characteristic vigor. "That's right! You can call me Max, and these three are my grandkids."
"Hi!" Todd chirped enthusiastically, bouncing on his heels.
"Hey," Ben and Gwen mumbled in unison, their voices dripping with absolute dread. Klein didn't even bother with a greeting, merely giving a lazy, indifferent nod.
Actually, Klein wasn't even looking at Todd. His eyes were fixed entirely on the piglet in the boy's arms. He stared at it for a long moment, his brow twitching slightly.
'Does that pig... have bangs?' he thought, mildly disturbed by the tuft of hair falling perfectly over the animal's eyes.
Joan had clearly hosted plenty of spoiled city kids who hated farm work, so she completely ignored Ben and Gwen's sour attitudes. She clapped her hands together. "Alright, enough small talk. Let's get right to work! You folks can start by unloading the animal feed from the back of that truck over there."
"No problem at all!" Grandpa Max agreed cheerfully, already marching toward the heavy sacks of grain stacked in the pickup.
Having issued her orders, Joan turned and headed back toward the main barn, Todd and his stylish pig trotting after her.
"Come on, you three! Get over here and help," Grandpa Max called out over his shoulder. He paused, turning to shoot them a stern look. "And remember the rules. No superpowers allowed. Especially you, Ben."
"Alright, alright, I get it," Ben grumbled impatiently, dragging his feet as he walked toward the truck.
Gwen let out a heavy sigh, her shoulders slumping. "Why do I get the horrible feeling that our wonderful summer vacation officially dies right here?" she muttered, trudging after her cousin.
She had only taken a few steps before she realized the sound of footsteps behind her was missing. She glanced back. "Huh? Klein, aren't you coming?"
Klein stood perfectly still, his hands shoved deep into his pockets. He shook his head slowly, looking past Gwen to address Max. "Grandpa, with Ben and Gwen helping you, that should be more than enough muscle for the feed. I'm going to go get a head start on the other farm chores."
Grandpa Max hoisted a sack of grain onto his shoulder, looking pleasantly surprised. "Well, alright then. Just don't go slacking off somewhere."
Klein turned on his heel and strolled away, making a beeline straight for the chicken coop.
Pushing open the creaky wooden door of the coop, Klein was immediately hit by the pungent smell of straw and feathers. Rows of nesting boxes lined the walls, occupied by several plump laying hens.
One of the closest hens tilted its head, fixing a beady, unblinking eye on him.
"Cluck, cluck, cluck?" It let out a confused noise, clearly not recognizing this particular human.
Klein stared at the bird. He really couldn't be bothered to negotiate with poultry. Without a single change in expression, his right hand shot out, grabbing the hen firmly by the back of the neck. He yanked it out of the nesting box, swung his arm back, and casually chucked the squawking bird straight out the open door.
"Bwa-gawk! Cluck, cluck, cluck!"
The hen hit the dirt outside, tumbling in a flurry of white feathers before scrambling back onto its feet. It puffed up its chest, clucking furiously at the sheer disrespect. Then, its beady eyes locked onto Klein's hand reaching toward its precious nest.
Realizing this intruder was after its eggs, the hen let out a war cry and charged back into the coop, flapping its wings aggressively.
Klein watched the incoming avian assault with deadpan calm. He didn't even flinch. He simply picked up a fresh egg from the straw, weighed it in his palm for a fraction of a second, and fastball-pitched it directly at the charging chicken.
Splat!
The egg exploded perfectly against the hen's head. The bird stumbled, completely dazed by the impact, as thick yellow yolk and clear whites dripped down its beak and feathers.
The hen shook its head violently, trying to clear its vision. It looked down at the shattered shell pooling in the dirt.
"Cluck! Cluck, cluck, cluck!" It let out a tragic, mournful wail.
'My child! My unborn child is gone!' The hen seemed to cry out in despair. As it wailed, a thick drop of the raw yolk slid down its beak and right into its open mouth.
The hen paused. It smacked its beak.
"Cluck? Cluck, cluck..."
'Wait. My child... actually tastes pretty good...'The bird stood frozen in a moment of deep culinary realization. Then, it shook its feathery head, snapping out of it.'No! Now is not the time to be distracted by how delicious my egg is! I must get revenge on this vile human!'
Throwing its head back, the hen unleashed a piercing, rallying screech. Instantly, the rustling of straw echoed from every corner of the coop. Dozens of chickens hopped down from their roosts, their heads bobbing in unison as they surrounded Klein, clucking menacingly.
Klein looked at the encroaching feathered army. A dark, villainous sneer slowly spread across his face.
"Heh... you want eggs, huh?" he muttered, his voice dripping with malice.
He reached into the nesting box with both hands, pulling out a fresh handful of ammunition.
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