Dexter Doodle was starting to suspect that the universe had a personal vendetta against him.
Why else would his first "big moment" as a talent show host involve:
A hypnotized goat chewing a judge's tie
Popcorn raining down like confetti at a war parade
A woman dancing with a broom like it was an award-winning partner
But nothing could have prepared him for what happened next.
From backstage, a voice boomed: "Next act! The Firebird Flock!"
Dexter squinted. A dozen chickens appeared—yes, chickens—each balancing tiny torches in their wings. They were part of a "juggling act" that someone, somewhere, had approved as family-friendly entertainment.
"And… they're flaming?" Dexter whispered to no one in particular.
"Yes!" the clown next to him cheered, juggling three rubber pigs for some reason. "It's tradition!"
Dexter tried to step aside, but the chickens noticed him. Apparently, the hypnotized goat had whispered something terrible about him earlier, because the chickens immediately zeroed in on Dexter.
"Run!" Tina shouted from the audience, pointing dramatically.
Dexter did run… straight into the pile of popcorn. He slipped. He skidded. He flailed his arms like a confused windmill. And somehow, in the most miraculous sequence of slapstick ever witnessed by humanity, he accidentally knocked over the podium, which launched a chicken into a perfect aerial arc… and onto the hypnotized goat.
The goat and chicken performed a perfect synchronized somersault, landing squarely on the judges' table. The judges screamed, the crowd went wild, and Dexter… somehow ended up being applauded for the "most innovative choreography of the year."
He was holding a stray torch. One of the chickens had perched on his shoulder like a feathery crown. Popcorn was stuck in his hair. And somewhere, a trombone played a triumphant note for absolutely no reason.
Dexter blinked at the audience. "Uh… thank you? I… think?"
The crowd roared. Judges were frantically trying to untangle themselves from the goat-chicken pyramid. Tina laughed so hard she fell off her chair. And Dexter realized, with horror and pride, that he had somehow won the talent show without actually doing anything intentionally talented.
The hypnotized goat nodded approvingly. The chickens crowed in unison. Even the flaming torches seemed to flicker in celebration.
Dexter Doodle, drenched in popcorn, feathers, and accidental glory, took a shaky bow. "Ladies and gentlemen," he said, "please remember: chaos is a talent too."
And with that, Dexter knew one thing for sure: if surviving this day was any indication, tomorrow was going to be even crazier.
If you want, I can continue with Chapter 4, where Dexter has to organize a parade for the town—but everything goes wrong, including runaway floats, singing llamas, and a mayor stuck in a giant foam banana.