Caris OMalley - The Egg Said Nothing

~Chapter 1~

In which the narrator lays an egg, keeps it warm and royally fucks some guy up with a shovel.

The morning I laid the egg is just a blur to me. I say laid because it seems to be the best word for the situation. I have no idea how it came out of me, but it did. I imagine it growing in my belly, slowly gathering its features from my raw genetic material. But it doesnt have my mothers shell. It doesnt have my own runny yolk.

I was not hatched from an egg. Neither were my parents. As far as I know, there are no birds in my family. Nor have I ever had any sort of intimate relationship with a bird.

And yet, I found myself one morning lying there with an egg.

The windows were undisturbed; I keep them covered with newspaper for fear of being seen by my neighbors. I dont mind the sunlight. Or the streetlamps, in fact. But I dont like the idea of people seeing me doing anything. Its odd, sitting on your couch eating toast while being watched by the lady across the alley.

The newspaper is taped over the whole window; it isnt tailored in any way. Its lopsided and too large for the mass its expected to cover. The effect is a bit disorienting. If you were in my apartment and looked at my wall, you probably wouldnt expect to see several pages of the July 14 New York Times unceremoniously duct taped there with grocery store brand adhesive. But, then again, I didnt expect to look down and see an egg between my knees.

When I woke up, I had this odd sensation. My lower half felt more sensitive. Felt exposed. If youre the sort of person who sleeps nude, you might not understand. Or perhaps you will. Maybe thats why you do it. But, for my own reasons, I never do. Its uncomfortable for me. I have a healthy sense of shame about my person. Only rarely does someone come into my apartment. And if that person comes in while Im sleeping, that person will not find me without my clothes on.

And that person will never find me in any state of undress because people do not come into my apartment without me knowing about it. And I would never let anyone in while I was sleeping. Im not the sort of guy who leaves a key under the mat so visitors can come as they please. I have a single key to my apartment on my chain. The only other copy is buried in a park six miles away. It is in an unmarked hole. And everything I just said about the whereabouts of my spare key is a lie because I dont want you to know where my goddamned key is.

I have eight different locks on my door. Four are where youd expect them to be. One on the door handle, one deadbolt, one sliding bolt and one chain lock. Then there are two deadbolts on the side where the hinges are, and another deadbolt at both the top and bottom of the door. Yes, you can install deadbolts wherever you want. Theres actually a ninth lock, but Im not saying anything about it because youre staying out of my fucking apartment.

When I woke up naked with an egg between my legs, I looked about frantically for my pants. I found them hooked on my left foot. Due to their lack of warmth, it seemed apparent they had been there for some time.

The windows were, as I said earlier, unmolested. The locks on the door were in place. My key was on the chain and the sparemy none of your fucking business keywas safe in its spot.

Logic seemed to point to me as the source of the egg.

I went back over to my bed and lifted up the blanket. There the egg sat. If it had eyes, Id say it looked up at me hopefully, but, since it didnt, Ill say instead it looked at me speckled. It was a light blue with reddish speckles. Like I think a robins egg might look, only bigger. But Im not aware of ever seeing a robin or its egg, so I have no real way of knowing.

In the bathroom, I dropped my pants and performed a quick inspection. Not only did I find no feathers; I found no evidence that anything large had been expelled from any orifice known to me. There was also no soreness or signs of blood loss, which seemed necessary to lay an egg of this magnitude.

So, while there was nothing to suggest I had laid the egg, I nevertheless felt it was mine. When you lay an egg, youll understand.

I went over to my closet and pulled out more blankets. I piled them on my bed and made a nest, then picked up the egga good three or four poundsand placed it in the middle. I considered sitting on it, but also worried about breaking it. Mother birds seem to have softer bottoms. And Im a father, not a mother.

I wrapped it up in my sweatshirt to keep it warm, careful not to jostle it about too much. I had no desire to scramble my egg.

Picking up my phone off the hanger on the kitchen wall, I dialed a 0. The operator tends to only be marginally more useful than a librarian. At the time, however, she seemed like the best resource.

Operator, she answered. How may I direct your call?

Hello, I responded. I have a situation and hope you can help me.

Okay.

Its like this: I laid an egg this morning, and Im not sure what to do.

You laid an egg?

Yes.

Like a chicken egg?

Its most definitely not a chicken egg. Its bigger. And I laid it, not a chicken. Its a people egg, and I need to know what to do with it.

Is this a joke? she asked, muffling her giggle, I imagine, with her chunky paw.

Can you direct me to someone or not?

Youre serious?

Quite.

Uh, well, I would suggest calling a doctor. Or maybe the humane society.

Please connect me with the humane society. I have a doctor and already know his number.

Okay, hold please.

The line rang. And rang. And rang. And fucking rang because the humane society, which I have since learned is the dog pound, doesnt have an answering machinewhich I wouldnt have left a message on anywayand doesnt staff their goddamned establishment. Of course, they wouldnt have known what to do with an egg. Dogs dont lay eggs. I hung up the phone.

I walked over to my bed and uncovered the egg. It looked kind of like me, I think. As much as such a thing can look like a person. It looked like an introspective egg.

What do I do with you? I asked the egg.

The egg said nothing.

I reached my hands out and placed them on the shell. It was slightly cool to the touch. This alarmed me. I ran to the bathroom and grabbed a bunch of towels. I soaked them under the hot tap and brought them back to my bed. Wrapping them around the egg, I went in search of my space heater.

I found it in the bathroom, tucked behind the door. I carried it over to my bed and set it down. While I dont own any chairs, I do own cereal boxes. I hate cereal. Wont eat it. But I only buy things that are on sale, and cereal is always on sale. I was worried about putting the heater on the bed for fear of it catching fire. It looks like the sort of heater that would catch your bed on fire. And, while I wanted my egg warm, I did not want it to cook. So I went in the kitchen and gathered seven cereal boxes and one box of enriched macaroni product. I stacked them up and put the heater on top. I plugged it in; it whirred to life. After making sure the heat was aimed at my egg, I removed the wet towels and tossed them on the bathroom floor. The phone rang in the kitchen, so I headed for it, watching the egg over my shoulder as I left.

I picked up the phone. Hello?

Hey, a voice said, sounding familiar and foreign at the same time, like when you record yourself speaking.

Who is this? I asked.

Oh, give me a break. Who else would call you?

Lots of people call me. Who the fuck is this? My hand felt clammy against the phones plastic casing.