Market Day
A Thursday Prompt story
© 2025 by Walter Reimer

Prompt:  fresh

“Are these eggs okay?” the bull asked, a dubious look on his face as he cocked an eyebrow at the vendor.  Around the stall and moving up and down the aisles, the other early customers at the flea market moved on, intent on their own shopping as the sun rose above the horizon.
The fox running the stall beamed and straightened his Happy Kittens concert t-shirt.  “Absolutely!” he said enthusiastically.  “They were laid this morning.  Go ahead, touch one!  Most of them are still warm.”
The bull touched one with a fingertip.  “Yeah, still warm.  Bit creepy.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.  Aren’t they supposed to be refrigerated?”
“Man, that’s cold,” said a third, piping voice.
The bull drew his paw back hastily, eyeing the egg he’d just touched.  “I thought you said these eggs were fresh,” he said.
“You’re no spring chicken yourself, Bub,” the egg said.
“In fact, I think this one might be rotten.”
The fox raised his paws, palms out.  “No, he’s not rotten, just fresher than the others,” he protested.  “Would I steer you wrong?”  The bull raised an eyebrow and the fox’s ears and tail dipped in embarrassment.  “Sorry.”
“I think I see where this little fellow gets it,” the bull said.  “Okay, I’ll take a dozen, including this one,” and he poked the yegg, who squawked.
The fox visibly brightened as he reached for the flat.  “A whole dozen?”
“Yeah.  They’re going to star in a stage play.”
The egg asked, “’Stage play?’”
The bull leaned close and whispered, “Omelet.”  While the fox put the egg and eleven others in a carton, the buyer said absently, “It might be a bad yolk, but it’ll turn out all white in the end . . . “

end