Do You Want an Omelet?

The rest of lunch was pleasant. We chatted earnestly, and I made sure to add my own sarcastic "comedic" comments as much as possible.

After that day, Jessica and I started to build a repertoire; when we saw each other in public, we would talk; she texted me—unsolicited. That is to say, we were friends. It was rare that my friend pool expanded, and I cherished it.

During a particularly tedious paper in Current Events, Jessica reached out to me. She wanted to work together.

It was unexpected. The last project we worked on had caused so much drama. I was surprised she was even willing to work with me again, much less wanting to.

When I asked her why, she stated that I was good at researching. Reading that text made me do a double take. Jessica was a far superior academic, and I was very touched that she respected me.

I thanked her and told her in as casual a way as possible that I would be down for working together.

She wanted to meet at the library again. I agreed, seeing as though there was little to do at home. I almost wished that I was with my mother. Almost.

The day that we were to meet came. It was misty and wet, and had an air of mystique. By the time I got to the library, my rain jacket was dripping. I anstily waited in the lobby.

When Jessica slithered up to the building, I could tell something was deeply wrong. She was haggard and slow from the cold rain, but more than that looked bloated like a cartoon snake that had just swallowed a mouse.

I had never seen her do that, so I was fairly certain that wasn't the issue.

She only dipped her head in acknowledgement as she saw me. Much like before I followed her into the library as she left a meandering wet patch in her wake.

While talking to the librarian, her voice was strained and shaky. "Can we get computers?" she rasped.

The librarian, a chimera with the body of a lion and the head of a human, was concerned. "Is everything alright?" she asked.

Jessica looked like she was trying to shake off her own discomfort. "Uh… yeah. Just a cold… or something."

The librarian obviously wasn't satisfied with the answer, but didn't argue with the snake.

I also stayed silent. Emotions were one terrible, embarrassing thing, but body horror was not something I was capable of broaching.

I simply sighed as we sat in our normal positions.

The beginning of the meeting went as well as it could with Jessica in such a sorry state. She exerted herself the whole time, fighting through her pain. It showed everytime I'd ask her a question: her eyes would glaze over and her head would slump.

But her stoic demeanor didn't last. "E-excusssss—" she hissed. She didn't even try correcting herself, instead opting to speed-wind along the floor in a beeline to the bathroom.

I sat there awkwardly, trying my hardest to not imagine the unspeakable terrors that occurred. Thankfully I had never asked myself how snakes would use bathrooms, but the universe was maliciously trying to change that.

Jessica was gone for a long time. It was hard to simply ignore the whole ordeal, as much as I wanted to. I attempted to distract myself with the research, but as the minutes marched on, a sinkhole began forming in my stomach. It wasn't normal to be in the bathroom that long, and even though the evolved part of my mind could come up with ordinary explanations, I still was very much unsatisfied.

At the thirty minute mark, I told myself that I would text her at the forty five minute mark. At the forty five minute mark, I told myself that I would check on her at the fifty five minute mark.

And then I hit the fifty six minute mark.

I swallowed, slowly getting up to head over. My heart raced like a Formula 1 engine.

I cracked open the door and called out. "Uhh… are you alright in there?"

There was a long pause. "I don't know," a ragged, tired voice offered.

"W-what's the matter?" I stammered.

"I… laid eggs,” she huffed.

I snarled in disbelief. Eggs? That’s a disgusting way to describe her trip to the bathroom.

But then another more striking possibility hit me: that she was literal.

My eyes were wide and my mind was blank. “Is it… are you… help… do you need any help?”

“I don’t know,” she shuddered. “I don’t know what’s going on.”

“It’s a real egg? Like a bird?” I asked, trying to ground myself.

“Yeah,” she flatlined.

I stood in the doorway, mouth agape. It was the weirdest thing I’d ever encountered; somehow exponentially more so than waking up as a she-demon. “The egg—what are you going to do with it?”

“I-I don’t know.”

“Is-is there a—like a—chicken—or a little snake… or uh… in it…?” I stumbled over my words.

“I don’t know!” she cried. “Please, just… I-I have this under control….”

“Uh… okay,” I said, before shutting the door and leaning against the wall. I sighed deeply, my head spinning. Jessica lays eggs.

She is a reptile, after all. I think. And a female.

I’m a female.

Will I lay eggs?

I shook my head. The thought was ridiculous, of course. Mammals didn’t lay eggs. Except the platypus. But that could never happen. I wanted to throw up.

The thought circled my head, clouding my thinking with angst. The world was already so fucked, yet it kept getting worse and worse. I was dreaming. It was the only explanation.

I slumped to the ground, becoming an empty husk.

Some unknown amount of time later, I heard Jessica call for me. “Noel? I need.…”

I looked up at the bathroom door. Mindlessly, I stood up to open it. “What’s wrong?”

“...I can’t get an egg out of the toilet.”

I broke. “Oh.”

“I don't know what to do…."

"The janitor. I'll get the janitor."

Jessica grunted. I had no clue what it meant.

I sauntered to the front desk. The chimera lady was still there, typing away at her computer. Probably playing solitaire.

"Yes?" she asked as she saw me.

"Uh… I need the janitor in the bathroom. Uh… there's… an egg in the toilet."

"An egg?" she asked, mildly disgusted.

"Y-yeah… and it won't come out of the toilet…."

"Is it clogged?" she asked.

"I—I don't know. It's my friend. She had an egg."

Something seemed to click in her mind. "Oh. You mean your snake friend laid an egg…. Uh… do you need it back?"

"I don't know," I gasped. "She said she couldn't get it out. That's all I know."

"Ah."

"Can—can we call the janitor? Or something?"

"He doesn't come until after closing time."

"Oh."

"Let's… ask her if she needs it back," the librarian offered. I wondered how she could be so collected. It was something I admired greatly.

The librarian walked to the bathroom on her four legs. She pushed open the door with her shoulder and gingerly asked, "Do you need help, Miss?"

"I—I'm…" Jessica faltered.

"It's the librarian, I-I told her what happened," I offered.

"What seems to be the matter?" the librarian asked matter-of-factly.

"I… there… I laid an egg, it fell in the toilet bowl, and… I can't get it out," Jessica cried.

"Do you want the egg back?"

"I—I don't—I don't know."

The librarian took what felt like a whole minute to think. She was probably doing mental gymnastics to unearth the key line of communication. "Is it fertilized?"

Jessica simply waited for further information.

"If it's fertilized, it will grow into a baby."

"I don't—it can't be…" Jessica struggled.

"I would guess that you probably don’t need to keep it, then," the librarian said precisely. “Unless you want an omelet,” she added.

I winced. I wondered why someone would make a joke like that when things were so fucked. If it were my agony being made light of, I would have been livid.

“I don’t,” Jessica croaked finally.

Eventually, the librarian and I—mostly the former—managed to coax Jessica out of the restroom. The librarian assured her that the cleaner would deal with the egg in the toilet. I was surprised for the upteenth time to see Jessica roll two more eggs out from the stall and lift them into the trash with her tail.

She had laid three eggs, each the size of a grapefruit. It was just weird and confusing.

Jessica seemed fine physically. Mentally was a different matter; she was traumatized. At least, I assumed so by how she refused to talk.

I had completely dissociated by that point. All my capacity for emotion was exhausted worrying about my friend and my own potential futures. I just wanted to go home and sleep.