For umbrella_half
Number Ten - Whimsy/ Reality
No-one was sure who had actually brought in the egg incubator and set it up in the break room, but that didn’t stop coffee breaks happening about three and a half times more frequently than they used to.
Fraser had tried explaining to anyone who would listen that the eggs recovered from illegal collections were almost always non-viable, to little avail.
Detectives Huey and Dewey were running an enthusiastic book on when the egg would hatch and just what it contained.
Ray had contacted Animal Control, who had told him to phone Fish and Wildlife, who’d put him on hold for twenty-five minutes and then redirected him to someone who apparently only spoke Ukrainian. Fraser had prudently removed the cell phone from Ray’s grasp before he could damage either it or anyone nearby. As a result, the egg (large, off-green with pink speckles) appeared to be the temporary property of the 2-7.
“I think its hatching!” Frannie’s excited shout, five days later, resulted in Lieutenant Welsh frowning and pushing open his door to see why the bullpen was suddenly quiet, and finding that this was because he appeared to have no employees at all. In the deserted bullpen, a man dressed as a beaver and a woman who had come in to report her dog kidnapped by aliens, were playing an energetic game of table ping pong with a ball of rubber bands.
In the break room, there was speculation as cracks spread across the surface of the egg.
“Maybe it’s an eagle?”
“Have you ever seen an eagle egg that looked like that?”
“No, but have you seen one that hasn’t?”
“Shut up, I think it’s about to-” Huey’s shout stopped suddenly as the egg literally exploded, sending pieces of shell clattering against the sides of the incubator. “What… is that?”
Fraser found himself pushed to the front by a sort of Brownian motion and ended up directly in front of the incubator with twenty nine pairs of eyes fastened on him. He squinted through the Plexiglas lid and rubbed his right eyebrow with his thumb.
The creature in the incubator hiccupped, scratched vigorously at its head with one foot and opened its beak to make a sound that sounded like someone whistling through a plughole.
“Ah. It appears to be a gryphon.”
No-one was sure who had actually brought in the egg incubator and set it up in the break room, but that didn’t stop coffee breaks happening about three and a half times more frequently than they used to.
Fraser had tried explaining to anyone who would listen that the eggs recovered from illegal collections were almost always non-viable, to little avail.
Detectives Huey and Dewey were running an enthusiastic book on when the egg would hatch and just what it contained.
Ray had contacted Animal Control, who had told him to phone Fish and Wildlife, who’d put him on hold for twenty-five minutes and then redirected him to someone who apparently only spoke Ukrainian. Fraser had prudently removed the cell phone from Ray’s grasp before he could damage either it or anyone nearby. As a result, the egg (large, off-green with pink speckles) appeared to be the temporary property of the 2-7.
“I think its hatching!” Frannie’s excited shout, five days later, resulted in Lieutenant Welsh frowning and pushing open his door to see why the bullpen was suddenly quiet, and finding that this was because he appeared to have no employees at all. In the deserted bullpen, a man dressed as a beaver and a woman who had come in to report her dog kidnapped by aliens, were playing an energetic game of table ping pong with a ball of rubber bands.
In the break room, there was speculation as cracks spread across the surface of the egg.
“Maybe it’s an eagle?”
“Have you ever seen an eagle egg that looked like that?”
“No, but have you seen one that hasn’t?”
“Shut up, I think it’s about to-” Huey’s shout stopped suddenly as the egg literally exploded, sending pieces of shell clattering against the sides of the incubator. “What… is that?”
Fraser found himself pushed to the front by a sort of Brownian motion and ended up directly in front of the incubator with twenty nine pairs of eyes fastened on him. He squinted through the Plexiglas lid and rubbed his right eyebrow with his thumb.
The creature in the incubator hiccupped, scratched vigorously at its head with one foot and opened its beak to make a sound that sounded like someone whistling through a plughole.
“Ah. It appears to be a gryphon.”