The egg problem

I was woken early one morning by a hammering on my back door.

 

‘That’s funny’ I thought to myself, ‘Alun usually knocks quietly and politely, I wonder why he’s so excited at this early hour’.

 

I quickly dressed and rushed downstairs, to find Alun waiting outside the door with a camera crew.

 

“What’s going on?” I asked.

 

“There’s a crisis, Jed,” he said.

 

“A crisis, at 6.40 in the morning! What crisis? And what are the camera crew doing here?”

 

“Don’t mention them Jed, this is reality TV, you have to pretend they’re not there. Can you say that again without mentioning the camera men.”

 

“A crisis, at 6.40 in the morning. What crisis?”

 

Alun looked around my kitchen frantically, as if seeking out a convenient crisis.

 

“That egg, Jed.” He pointed to the egg I was planning to have for breakfast.

 

“In what way exactly does my egg constitute a crisis?”

 

“Why, ‘tis a mystery Jed, that’s why. What animal has snuck in her and laid an egg in your kitchen while you slept?”

 

“You think an animal has snuck in here and laid an egg? In my egg carton.”

 

“Of course Jed, it’s a clever place to lay an egg. It’s safe. And warm. Maybe the dragon laid an egg when it visited us last week.”

 

“The dragon?”

“Yes Jed, the dragon. Remember?”  He gave me a look, as if asking me to play up for the camera.

 

“Oh yes, that dragon. I’d forgotten we were visited by a dragon. And you think the dragon laid an egg before it left, in my egg carton.” I picked the egg up and held it to the light.

 

“It doesn’t look like a dragon’s egg.”

 

“Then what is it Jed?” Alun asked excitedly.

 

“Okay, cut,” said one of the men filming us.

 

“Right, we can talk now Jed,” Alun said.

 

“What’s going on?”

 

“We’re making a TV programme.”

 

“A TV programme. What about?”

 

“About us, Jed.”

 

“About us? Why would anyone make a programme about us?”

 

“It’s those stories about us on abctales. A TV company wants to make them into a series.”

 

“But those stories are nonsense,” I said. “None of them are true. It’s that idiot Terrence, from Oblong Island, he writes them to annoy me.”

 

“Even so, Jed, they’re popular.”

 

“But I haven’t seen the script,” I said. “How will I know my lines?”

 

“There is no script, Jed. They just want to film a normal day.”

 

“But that will be tedious, nothing ever happens, we’re just an isolated island with two inhabitants. That’s lousy television.”

 

“They’ve been taken in by the abctales stories, Jed. They think we have amazing adventures every day.”

“So we’re supposed to have an amazing adventure, without a script, live on camera. Here, just the two of us, on this isolated little island where nothing ever happens.”

 

“Exactly Jed.”

 

“And your best idea is to claim that my egg is a dragon’s egg.”

 

“It was all I could think of Jed.”

 

“It’s all very well, but what am I going to have to eat now? You’ve turned my breakfast into a TV star.”

 

One of the men gave a signal to Alun.

 

“They’re about to start filming again, Jed. Play along – pretend that you don’t know where the egg came from, and we’ll ‘have an adventure’ going round the island trying to find out whose egg it is.”

 

“That doesn’t sound like gripping TV to me,” I said, but nonetheless I agree to his plan. I certainly didn’t want a big shouty argument being filmed – we’re not that kind of reality TV show.

 

One of the really disappointing things about the abctales stories is that they ignore most of the really fascinating wildlife we have on our island. Yes we have geep and miniature elephants, but that’s just a fraction of the fauna that makes our island unique. Although I didn’t think much of the TV show idea, this at least would be one way to show viewers a greater range of the wildlife.

 

However, the first animal we came across was SuperDuck, the duck with magical powers who has saved mankind on at least 17 different occasions. He lives on Happy Island because it’s so isolated, hence his very existence is a perfect secret to the rest of the world.

 

“Look Jed, a perfectly normal, common duck. Maybe it’s a ducks egg.”

 

“I think it’s a male.” I said. “And I’ve never seen any female ducks on the island.”

 

“Ah, that must be what the SD stands for on its superhero costume, Jed, Single Duck. Let’s move on.”

 

Having safely avoided giving away SuperDuck’s identity, we walked on, heading towards the shore. There, on the beach, hovering just above the sand, was a turtle.”

 

“A hover-turtle, Jed,” Alun said. “Maybe it’s a turtle’s egg.”

 

“Well it’s certainly a beautiful animal, a species unique to our island, one of the few hovering animals in the world that’s neither bird nor insect,” I said, keen to highlight the delights of our wildlife. “But turtles lay their eggs in the sand, not in egg cartons in my kitchen.”

 

“You’re right Jed, we’ll have to try elsewhere.”

 

We walked on briefly before coming to another creature unique to our shores, a long, slowly-slithering snake.

 

“Look Jed, it’s a Happy Island Snake, maybe it’s a snake’s egg.”

 

I took the egg briefly out of its carton and pretended to examine it. “No, I don’t think it could be,” I said. “Snakes eggs are soft and leathery, this is hard like a bird’s egg.”

 

“Or a dragon’s.”

 

“Yes, of course, we still haven’t ruled out the dragon, though it would have to be a very small dragon.”

 

“Not necessarily, Jed. It would be a baby dragon when it hatches, have you considered that?”

 

I pondered the egg thoughtfully, in a way that I hoped would be ratings heaven.

 

“I still think it’s a bit small for a dragon’s egg,” I said eventually.

 

“Right, cut,” someone shouted. “That’s a wrap for today. See you same time tomorrow.”

 

“I’d better take this,” one of the TV crew said, grabbing my carton.

 

“You’re taking my egg?”

 

“We don’t want anything to happen to it. Now it’s part of the cast.”

 

“The cast! You think the egg is one of the cast?”

 

However, the man didn’t reply, he simply removed the egg carton from my hands and wended away with his prize.

 

At great speed the TV crew dispersed, disappearing back to the mainland on a private boat. Before you could say ‘Bar’s open’, Alun and I were all alone.

 

“Well, this is an adventure fit for abctales,” I said, “a TV crew filming our real, day-to-day lives.”

 

“Yes Jed, if I know anything at all about TV we’re going to huge stars, like that bloke off the TV that did that TV show once.”

 

“Really! You think we could be that big?”

 

xxx

 

Alun and I retired early that night, anticipating another long day’s filming ahead of us.

 

However, the 6.30 start never happened. I was woken at a respectable hour by a polite knocking on my back door.  I rushed downstairs to find Alun brandishing a letter.

 

“It’s the TV company, Jed,” he said.

 

“Are they commissioning the TV series?” I asked.

 

“Yes, Jed, but without us.”

 

“Without us? You mean they’re running a reality TV show about an island inhabited by just two people, without either of the people.”

 

“Yes Jed. They say our performances were disappointing. They’re giving the egg the leading role.”

 

“An egg. Playing both of us in the story of our lives. Who’d watch that?”

 

“It’s what viewers want, Jed. Reality.”