The woman, who Arthur mentally dubbed 'Nurse Nanny' for her maternal fussing and the distinct smell of medicinal herbs that clung to her, finally managed to compose herself. She placed the bowl of gruel on a small, carved bedside table. It looked suspiciously like oatmeal that had lost all hope.
"There, there, little master Elian," she crooned, patting his tiny head with a hand surprisingly gentle despite its size. "You must be hungry after such a long sleep. Eat up, and you'll be strong in no time."
Arthur stared at the gruel. It was thick, grey, and seemed to actively defy gravity. Strong? I'm pretty sure this is what they feed prisoners in fantasy novels. Where's the triple-cheese pizza? The spicy ramen? The questionable convenience store sushi? This is a culinary crime against humanity.
[EXCELLENT OBSERVATION, SOUL UNIT! 🧐 YOUR DISCERNMENT FOR QUESTIONABLE CUISINE IS UNPARALLELED! HOWEVER, CONSUMPTION OF SUSTENANCE IS CRUCIAL FOR OPTIMAL COMEDIC PERFORMANCE! 🍽️ ACTIVATE 'SPOON TO MOUTH' PROTOCOL! 🥄]
Oh, shut up, CVI, Arthur thought, trying to glare at the invisible panel. He picked up the tiny, wooden spoon. It felt ridiculously small in his equally tiny hand. He scooped a dollop of the grey sludge. It wobbled menacingly.
He took a bite. It tasted exactly as it looked: bland, gritty, and utterly devoid of joy. It was the culinary equivalent of watching paint dry.
This is going to be a long life, he mused, forcing down another spoonful. A very, very long, bland life, punctuated by involuntary burps and tripping over air.
Nurse Nanny, still chuckling occasionally to herself about the burp, bustled around the room, tidying things that didn't look untidy. She hummed a tuneless, cheerful melody. Arthur watched her, a new thought forming. He had GP now. Giggle Points. And the CVI had mentioned a "Chuckle-Mart."
Hey, CVI, he thought, trying to sound casual, about this 'Chuckle-Mart' you mentioned. What exactly is in there? And can I buy something that makes this gruel taste like actual food? Or at least less like sadness?
[AH, THE CHUCKLE-MART! 🛍️ A PARAGON OF PROGRESSION! A BAZAAR OF BARGAINS! YOUR ONE-STOP SHOP FOR ALL THINGS HILARIOUSLY HELPFUL! AND NO, SOUL UNIT, WE DO NOT STOCK FLAVOR ENHANCERS FOR GRUEL. WHERE'S THE COMEDY IN THAT? 😒]
A new panel appeared, shimmering with an almost aggressive cheerfulness. It was like a pop-up ad, but in his brain.
[CHUCKLE-MART INVENTORY: 🛒]
SKILLS:
'Mastery of the Exploding Whoopee Cushion' (50 GP) 💨💥
'Innate Ability to Trip Over Nothing Gracefully' (Already Acquired! 🤸♂️)
'Tongue-Twister Proficiency' (75 GP) 👅🌀
'Accidental Pant-Dropping Expertise' (100 GP) 👖⬇️
'The Power of the Perfectly Timed Sneeze' (120 GP) 🤧✨
ITEMS:
'The Infinite Rubber Chicken of Distraction' (30 GP) 🐔♾️
'Amulet of Mild Inconvenience' (40 GP) 🤏😩
'Potion of Temporary Laughter Contagion' (60 GP) 😂 contagion!
'Disguise Kit: Slightly Off-Kilter Mustaches' (25 GP) 🥸
'Portable Banana Peel Generator (Limited Use)' (80 GP) 🍌💨
PLOT ARMOR (Flimsy Edition):
'Shield of Mild Embarrassment' (150 GP) 🛡️😳 (Reduces damage by 10%, increases chance of public humiliation by 50%)
Arthur stared. Exploding whoopee cushion? Accidental pant-dropping? A portable banana peel generator? This isn't a system; it's a prop master for a bad sitcom.
He had 50 GP. He could buy the 'Exploding Whoopee Cushion' or the 'Infinite Rubber Chicken.' Both sounded equally useless and equally likely to get him into trouble.
Okay, CVI, he thought, this is ridiculous. What am I supposed to do with an exploding whoopee cushion? Or a rubber chicken? Am I supposed to fight monsters with these?
[FIGHT? MY DEAR SOUL UNIT, YOU ARE NOT HERE TO FIGHT! YOU ARE HERE TO ENTERTAIN! 🤩 THINK OF MONSTERS AS AUDIENCE MEMBERS! AND YOUR WEAPONS? YOUR WIT! YOUR CHARM! AND OCCASIONALLY, A WELL-PLACED EXPLODING WHOOPEE CUSHION! 💥💨]
So, I'm a comedian now. In a fantasy world. With a system that wants me to trip over things and drop my pants. My life choices have truly led me to this peak.
He eyed the 'Infinite Rubber Chicken of Distraction.' It was cheap. And "distraction" sounded useful, even if it was likely to be the most annoying distraction ever. Plus, it was infinite. That had to count for something.
Alright, CVI. I'll take the 'Infinite Rubber Chicken of Distraction,' Arthur decided. It sounds like something I could annoy people with. And if I'm going to be a comedian, I might as well start with a classic. Even if it's a prop.
[EXCELLENT CHOICE, SOUL UNIT! 🐔♾️ PURCHASE CONFIRMED! -30 GP! CURRENT GP: 20! YOUR 'INFINITE RUBBER CHICKEN OF DISTRACTION' HAS BEEN ADDED TO YOUR INVENTORY! TO SUMMON, SIMPLY THINK 'CHICKEN TIME!' AND FOCUS! 🧠✨]
A small, almost imperceptible shimmer occurred next to his bed. Arthur looked down. There, nestled innocently on the pristine white sheets, was a bright yellow, slightly deflated-looking rubber chicken. It had a perpetually bewildered expression on its painted face.
Arthur poked it with a tiny finger. It emitted a faint, pathetic squeak.
This is it, he thought, a wave of profound resignation washing over him. My first magical item. A rubber chicken. My life is truly complete.
Nurse Nanny, still humming, turned from the window. "Oh, little master, what's that?" she asked, her eyes falling on the chicken. She bent down, a curious smile on her face.
Arthur's mind raced. He had just gotten the chicken. What was its "distraction" capability? Could it sing? Dance? Lay golden eggs? Probably not. But he had to do something.
He remembered the CVI's instruction: "Summon, simply think 'Chicken Time!' and focus!" He had already done that. Now, what about its use?
He looked at Nurse Nanny, who was now reaching for the chicken, her brow furrowed in amusement. He had to act fast. He had to make it… distracting.
Without thinking, Arthur grabbed the rubber chicken with both tiny hands and, with all the strength his new, weak body could muster, swung it in a wide arc.
It connected with Nurse Nanny's forehead with a soft, rubbery thwack.
Nurse Nanny froze, her eyes wide, a single strand of hair escaping her bun. The rubber chicken, still clutched in Arthur's hands, let out a surprisingly loud, indignant SQUAAAAAAWK!
For a moment, there was silence. Then, slowly, Nurse Nanny's face crumpled. Not in anger, but in a desperate attempt to suppress a laugh. Her shoulders began to shake. A snort escaped. Then another. And then, she burst into a fit of uncontrollable giggles, clutching her forehead where the chicken had made contact.
"Oh, you rascal!" she gasped between peals of laughter. "You struck me with that… that thing! Oh, my sides! Little master, you are full of surprises!"
[SPONTANEOUS COMEDIC ACTION DETECTED! 🤣 UNEXPECTED RUBBER CHICKEN ATTACK! 🐔💥 GP GAINED: 15! 💰][CURRENT GP: 35! EXCELLENT WORK, SOUL UNIT! YOUR POTENTIAL FOR CHAOS IS TRULY INSPIRING! ✨]
Arthur stared at the giggling Nurse Nanny, then at the rubber chicken in his hand, which seemed to be vibrating with self-satisfaction. He had just assaulted his caretaker with a rubber chicken. And gotten points for it.
This world is insane, he thought, a faint, bewildered smile touching his lips. And I'm pretty sure I'm going to fit right in. God help us all. 🤦♂️😂