Before the Bad Day - Tales of Conker and Berri

by A Badger Which Writes

The squirrel and the chipmunk have always stuck together. It felt right. Yet, after more than ten years, the spark was fading and they find themselves struggling to see why they're an item in the first place. In their mutual peeves towards each other every day, every tiny moment of affection feels genuine. Assorted drabbles, about a month before Conker's Bad Fur Day.

2. In which Berri discovers a dancing baby

The dim light of the computer illuminated the little home's wooden walls, and it made Conker's eyes hurt. He was spending way too much time on the early internet than was healthy for him, but it was a relaxing pastime nonetheless.

He was waiting for an important email. He finally went out to get a job, and they said they would contact him via email - something he was still new to. Though the sleep was getting to him, Berri was out working again, and he really, really, really, really, really badly wanted to crawl into his cot and drift off.

Maybe not.

Stretching out his limbs and stumbling a little, he went to get some soda to keep him up and quell his queasiness.

When Conker returned, he almost dropped his drink. A new email! That must be the job he applied for. A huge grin came upon his face, and he eagerly sat down to open it. His tail neatly wrapped around the chair.

Though when the mail was opened, the thing he was met with was a poorly-rendered animated gif of a dancing infant. He squinted, getting closer to the screen. A dancing baby. What was the purpose of this? Who sent this dumb thing? It's a dancing baby, for goodness sakes - it's not like his work was joking with him. Was it?

Then he saw the email address from the sender; the name of his girlfriend stood out right away. Berri B. Hazel.

Goodness darn it, Berri. She probably snuck on the computer at her work to send this dumb picture to all her friends and was probably cracking up that very moment.

Immediately, Conker clicked "reply" in a futile attempt to put a stop to this nonsense.

"Hey babe,

i love you and all but is that picture really necessary. i am waiting for a very important message and basically kindly sod off with your weird in-jokes, ok? thank you.

angry regards,

Conker."

He pressed "send" and leaned back, putting his arms behind his back. After all, some boundaries oughta be established. And maybe, just maybe, he was a bit of a sourpuss, but there's a time and place for everything.

Then his mail blooped. And bleeped. And blooped again. Now, this was concerning; where was his important reply? If it was there, it was buried in a flood of dancing baby chain mails. Conker growled audibly to himself, but they came faster than he could click "delete"; soon the old, crappy computer decided to call it quits and crashed. More anger resulted. Though it had no effect, he violently shook the monitor, but eventually gave up, leaned on his knee, and sighed.

Maybe it was a sign that he needed to go to bed after all.