“Grandpapa is a boomer,” the offspring that currently looked like Eleanor—but may not have been—said as she moved her small plastic figurine up the final steps required to declare her the victor.
“A boomer?” Titan, Al, and Kyle all asked in unison, as Ezra and Jude both snorted with laughter.
“A boomer is a being that is old-fashioned and has behaviors that other beings find obnoxious and stupid,” she explained. “TikTok has informed me of this fact.”
“Boomers are often rude to the beings that bring you sustenance at restaurants, or to the beings that you give currency to when purchasing an item,” possibly-Harrison added.
“No, those are Karens,” possibly-Eleanor argued.
“Those are traits that are shared between both Karens and boomers,” possibly-McCartney declared sagely.
“Wait, so is Grandpapa a boomer or a Karen?” asked possibly-Harrison.
“Perhaps he is both,” suggested possibly-Eleanor. “Regardless, I believe that it is unnecessary for you to feel shame for what Grandpapa said to you, Uncle Titan, as he is probably just stupid.” She then turned to Kyle and said, “I have defeated you and my clutchmates, which means I get to choose the next game we play. May we play the Wealth Disparity game? I feel desire to be the hat.”
“What’s—” Ezra started.
“Monopoly,” Jude answered for him before he was able to finish the question.
“Ah,” he said as a soft form of acknowledgment. He patted Titan’s legs until he lifted them off his lap, then climbed to his feet. “I’m gonna go check on the eggs. I’m sure Buttons still has everything under control, but I don’t like being away too long. I’ll come back for a bit, and when the other four wake up, we can have brunch with everyone to take your mind off things, okay, Titan? You, Al, and Kyle can tell us all for the millionth time why it’s completely arbitrary and stupid how humans determine what foods are only meant to be eaten in the morning, and I’ll listen and nod and keep my hot takes to myself.”
Titan did not think brunch would make him forget his thoughts, not even if Ezra withheld his hottest takes, but he told him, “That would be agreeable” anyway, so as to not cause him undue concern about his well-being. Ezra grinned and kissed him on the cheek before heading up to their room.
“Uncle Titan,” possibly-McCartney said, drawing Titan’s attention away from Ezra’s retreating form and back to the small huddle on the floor.
“Yes?”
“Would you like to play Wealth Disparity with us?”
“I do not believe I have played before. What is the aim of this boring game?”
“It is a simulation of an unsustainable economic system, and the goal is to cause the other players to lose all of their currency. Play with us, thank you very much please? If you do, I will allow you to play as the Scottish canine, even though it is my most favoritest.”
“Very well,” he said, lowering himself to the floor. He did not feel much like playing games, but the fact that his company was being requested warmed his heart. Perhaps his father did not approve of him, but this did not matter,as his opinion was no longer the one that Titan valued most.
Titan waited patiently in bed while Ezra conducted his bizarre nightly ritual of wishing good night to the eggs. It was not the act of saying good night that was bizarre, but rather the fact that he insisted on calling the offspring inside by what he said were “nicknames,” which he had told Titan were false, placeholder names that would be replaced by true names later on. When Titan had suggested they simply name the offspring before the hatching to avoid this, Ezra had refused, stating he did not feel as though they could “do the offspring justice” until meeting them during the hatching.
It was aggravating, but only minutely.
Titan was becoming increasingly adept at “going with the flow.”
“Good night, Mary and Jane,” Ezra whispered to the first egg in the inefficient human nest, laying his hand briefly over the domed top and smiling as the shell swirled in a kaleidoscope of colors in response. He moved to the middle egg. “Good night, Cheech and Chong.” Then, to the final egg. “Good night, Snoop. Good night, Dogg.”
“I do not understand these nicknames,” Titan grumped halfheartedly, coming to take Ezra into his arms as Ezra switched off the light and climbed into bed. The way they curled together was almost involuntary, with Titan’s front pressed to Ezra’s back, one arm resting on Ezra’s hip and their legs entangled.
“They’re culturally significant Earth titles.”
“Then why can we not simply use them as the actual names for our offspring?”
“Because I’m bullshitting you, the names are just funny.”
“What is humorous about them?”
“Mm, don’t worry about it,” Ezra said with a yawn, burrowing deeper into the pillow. “Hey,” he added after it had been silent for a few seconds. “How are you doing?”
“I am adequate,” Titan said blankly.
“Are you lying?”
