The boston brunette boy led a single finger down, down, down to your pants. His hand crept inside as you sweated nervously and- CRACK. Scout quickly jerked his hand out, with a disgusted expression. He checked his hand. Yolk. Egg yolk. He pulled your pants down. Millions of eggs fall out. You run away, crying and blushing in shame. You are an egg. You have just givin birth. He was not the father. He is not an egg. Egg.
