Lydia pursed her lips, this was very unexpected. Eric stood in front of them grinning crazily like this was the best day of his life. What would be the best reaction in this situation? Her mind raced a hundred miles an hour trying to solve the issue and figure out how to get to James. She burst into tears. He seemed like the kind of guy that hated to see a woman cry. She wiped her face over and over as her false tears rained down. Eric looked confused, but it didn’t matter what Eric was thinking, only James mattered. She risked a look in his direction, he was looking at her, but didn’t seem to care. His eyes were red and traces of tears still lay on his cheeks. A reaction like that must mean that Margaret had dumped him. This was good, right now he seemed complacent, but soon he would look for comfort anywhere he could get it. And she would be there when he needed it, arms wide open. She slowly stopped her tears. “I understand, Eric, and I respect your decision. I think I will go to bed now.” She made her way upstairs, and promptly fell asleep.
Eric looked over at James. “What happened to you?”
“I am honestly still processing it myself.”
Eric nodded and left, not in his usual nosy mood. James buried his face in a pillow and lay still the rest of the night.
Morning rose, with Lydia sleeping peacefully, Eric playing with lego, and James softly sobbing into his pillow. Sunlight filled the house, kissing Lydia’s perfectly coloured cheeks and angelic hair, not marred by the tossing and turning of sleep, she stirred and awoke. Smiling in delight, she rose and made her way over to the mirror to make sure she was looking her finest. Pure black false eyelashes were applied with a thin layer of glue, she kept the makeup to minimum so as not to seem too much of a contrast to Margaret (who looked like a troll in her opinion). She put on a simple sky blue dress, and marched downstairs. James had left the couch and was now resting face-down on the floor, moaning like a dying animal. “Oh you poor man, what happened?” she knelt beside him and massaged his back. He shuffled away from her, and Eric came down the stairs.
“Mornin’ James, Lydia,” he said in his normal cheery tone.
She would always admire his ability to move on from awkward situations like they had never happened. “Good morning, Eric. And how are you on this one?”
“I didn’t understand that sentence, but I am having a good morning.”
“It really wasn’t a complicated sentence, Eric,” Lydia responded.
“I have come to decision.”
She couldn’t resist rolling her eyes at his childish way of abruptly changing topics.
“Yes?”
“I am going to become a psychologist.”
“That is a very big decision.”
“I know, I enrolled for a course last night, and I am going to become a psychologist now.”
“And what is a psychologist, Eric?” Lydia truly doubted he knew.
“Oh you know, those people who other people talk to to feel better.”
“First off, I think you mean Psychiatrist, second off, that seems like the opposite kind of job you should have.”
“I already payed like five hundred dollars for this course.”
James groaned in agony. Lydia suspected Eric had not used his own money to buy the course. She leaned closer to James. “He really shouldn’t have access to a credit card,” she whispered. James nodded.
“Anyway, I have to get to class, so see you guys later.” Eric grabbed a donut from the fridge and rushed out the door. The moment was ruined, Lydia wasn’t sure if she could properly work under the current conditions. She would come back later. Knowing James, his worst moments would be in the evening anyway. She went back upstairs to rehearse her plan.
Eric bounced with excitement in his seat. The classroom he was in was huge, but there weren’t many fish. The door opened and the professor entered. He was a short fat fish with a large black beard. Eric stopped bouncing and got into his focus mood. The fish came to the front of the class then looked behind him, sighed and left. Eric wondered if that had even been their professor. A couple moments later he reentered, with a small fish following him. The little fish looked maybe two or three, and was looking around the room in wonder. The professor came to the front of the class and cleared his throat.
“Ahem, alright, this is a picture of a brain.” He pointed at the empty black-board. “And this… Is a picture of a mentally unhealthy brain.” He once again pointed at the empty black-board. Eric was writing a plethora of notes.
The little fish sat at the front and watched the lesson. Eric was deep in thought, trying to figure out how to write psychiatrist, when he felt a tap on his shoulder. He looked up to see the small fish sitting behind him. “Oh, hi there little guy, what are you doing?”
“My name is George,” the little fish carefully enunciated every word.
“Nice to meet you Random George,” Eric shook the little fishes fin.
“I am not Random.”
“You just showing up was pretty random, so I am going to say you are.”
The little fish scowled then looked at Eric’s notes and pointed to his writing, “You are spelling psychiatrist wrong.”
“I know,” said Eric in defeat.
Random George took the pencil in his fin and corrected the word. “I have been practicing,” he said proudly when he was finished.
“That is very impressive,” Eric was honestly amazed.
Random George came closer and sat right beside Eric. “That is my dad,” He pointed to the professor.
“Wow, that is interesting. My dad lives in London.”
“My dad knows nothing about Psychiatry,” Random George continued.
“Oh?”
“Yeah, he is a scammer, he just does this for the money.”
“But, I have learned so much.” Eric regretfully looked at his page of notes, which mostly consisted of doodles.
“Anyway, it was nice to meet you, I better get back to my dad.” Random George looked long at Eric. “I really like you.”
“What a strange thing to say, and you said you weren’t random.”
Random George went back to the front, and Eric went back to his notes.
The door opened as James vacuumed the same spot on the rug for the fourteenth time. He slowly looked up and saw Eric there. “How was school?” he asked just for the sake of saying something.
“It was great, I learned so much. And I met this really neat little dude. He knew how to spell sykatrist.”
“It is pronounced Psychiatrist.”
“I was close enough, anyway. Oh, I also set the school on fire.”
“…What?”
“Yeah, apparently paper catches on fire really easily. The professor said he was sending the police after me, but I think I am ok.”
“That is not ok, Eric, that is not ok. Was anyone hurt?”
“No, it was just my desk that was burning. Anyway, don’t worry about it, I am going to bed now. G’night.”
“Night.”
Eric went upstairs and James laid down the vacuum. It was getting dark outside, and he couldn’t stop thinking that he would never have to sneak out to see Margaret again. A cold panic overwhelmed him, and he knew he had to do something to distract himself. He made his way upstairs and knocked on Lydia’s bedroom door.
“Hello?” said Lydia from inside the room.
James hesitated and took a breath, then managed to say, “Can we talk?”
Eric was dozing off, then he heard a knock at the door. “James is still sad, so I better get it,” he said to himself. He made his way downstairs and opened the door. Store-Clerk was standing there along with the Professor of the school he had set on fire.
“Eric Sticks,” said the Store-Clerk, with as close to a smile as he ever got. “You are under arrest.”
Flaming Chickens 
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