“Have you thought anymore about getting a cat?” Fleegle asks.
“Umm… No.”
“What about a duck? Ducks are nice. I like the sound of their quacks.”
“No, nor geese.”
“Aren’t geese ducks?”
“Geese are white.”
“Like the goose that laid the golden egg?” he asks.
“Yes, white like that goose.”
“What do you think was in that golden egg? What do you think came out when it hatched?”
“Maybe a golden goose.”
Fleegle’s eyes grow big and wide. “Or a golden retriever that lays white eggs.”
“Those would be big eggs.”
“And what do you think would hatch out of them?” He grins. “Puppies?”
“Puppies are born, not hatched.”
“So that egg I’ve been keeping warm at night under my pillow won’t hatch a little brother?”
“You keep an egg under your pillow?”
“Well, since you don’t want to get me a cat or a duck or a goose, I thought I’d try to hatch a dog, or at the least, a chicken.”
“Where’d you get the egg?”
“From the fridge.”
“Since when can you open the fridge?”
“Since you taught me to open my dog cabinet to put away my toys.”
“Hmm… and I thought I was going senile when that ham on the bottom shelf went missing. Well, just make sure your egg stays under your pillow and doesn’t get under mine.”
“Afraid of osmosis and waking up talking chicken?”
“More like waking up with a deadly fear of short order cooks.”
Next: Negotiating with Cookies – Sandwiches
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Gnawing the Bone 