‘Sarah!’ I shouted from my computer. ‘Sarah!!!!’
My eight year old daughter rushed into the room. ‘Yes Dad?’
I took a deep breath. ‘Sarah, were the hell are my chickens?’
She shuffled her feet nervously. ‘Gone,’ she whispered.
I shook my head in disbelief. ‘No…’
‘You see, she began, ‘my friend Marsha came back after school. She was playing with the game and she… She killed them.’
‘You let her kill my chickens?’
‘I was doing homework. I didn’t notice until it was too late.’
I rubbed my eyes. ‘Have you any idea how hard it was to find them? I was up all night searching. I went across deserts and plains. I looked through jungles and rowed for hours over vast oceans. And then when I did find some it was so tricky to get them to follow me home. It was time for work by the time I had them safely in their pit. And then I come home to this…’ I waved my hand at the screen. ‘I think I’m going to cry.’
‘I’m sorry.’
‘I wanted to have it perfect for you.’
She threw her arms around me. ‘It is perfect Dad. I love it.’