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Clint walks out onto his porch to find someone left an egg sitting there
Slowly he walked through the front room of his house holding the bundled up egg in his hand with the note in the other as he read it again. "Who the hell would leave an egg on my door?" He muttered to himself. What was he suppose to do with an egg? Sit on it? For some reason he couldn't help the feeling that maybe this was some kind of sick joke.
"Haha, funny." He muttered to himself with a roll of his eyes. Of course it would be a joke. It had to be a joke. Everybody made their jokes about him being a bird. It only made sense that someone would leave him with an egg. "Asshole." He muttered once more as he laid the note down on the coffee table as he made his way to the couch. The cattle dog looked up briefly from her bed in the middle of the floor before laying back down to go to sleep. The fox was no where in sight.
Clint plopped himself down on the couch and flipped the TV on, mostly for the sound. The house was too quiet. Roxanne wasn't there and no one else was due to visit. A quiet night in with him, his dog, the fox and now an egg. He sat the egg down on the cushion beside him as he crossed his arms and stared at the TV. For a few minutes he actually paid attention to what was on, but every so often he'd look back at the bundled blanket to see the shell of an egg poking out.
Fingers tapped on the arm rest as he tried to keep himself entertained. The TV wasn't doing it, the dog was asleep and there still was no sign of where the fox could be. More than likely he'd found himself something to dig into. Last time Copper had managed to open one of the cupboards in the kitchen and curled up in one of his mixing bowls to sleep. After a few moment he picked up the egg and unwrapped it. Lightly rolling it between his hands, he looked it over. It was warm, yet cold. Strange. Looking around, half expecting someone to be watching him, he finally raised it up to look at it through the light. To his surprise he could see something. A dark figure. "What the-" He whispered. "There's actually something in there." Clint couldn't believe it. It wasn't just some joke. There was actually something in it.
He laughed to himself, shaking his head. "I have an egg. What the hell am I going to do with an egg." Still holding the egg, he forced himself from the couch, deciding to find someplace a bit warmer to put it and with better lighting. As he walked through the living room, he grinned to himself. "I have an egg." He repeated quietly to himself.
By the time he'd made it to the kitchen, he was repeating the words in a song to himself. Well, it wasn't really to himself. In fact it was loud and obnoxious. To make matters worse for himself, he was dancing with it. Both hands placed firmly on it as he swayed his hips and moved it back and forth. "I've got an egg. I've got an egg. What the hell am I to do with an egg." He sang loudly, bobbing his head along with it.
Once he'd made it to the kitchen, he grabbed a bigger, fluffier blanket out of the laundry basket[because he liked to fold his laundry in the kitchen] and rolled it into the shape of a nest on the counter. Placing the egg on top, he made his way to the fridge still singing and dancing to the song he made up in the matter of seconds. Reaching in, he grabbed himself a beer. Opening it, he turned and took a drink and stared at the egg sitting peacefully on the counter as he continued bobbing his head. "Oh what to do with an egg that I have." He sang loudly the final verse. Afterwards he looked around, half expecting someone to be standing in the doorway.
"... I really need to get myself a fucking life...." He muttered to himself with a laugh.
