Jane Doughtery has found another intriguing image this week for her microfiction prompt
So what is inside a dragon’s egg?
‘Bloody hell, John. I know this is an Easter marathon but it’s bad enough doing it dressed as reject dragons from Game of Thrones without juggling a sodding egg the whole way.’
‘Love, it’s going to double our sponsorship, see.’
‘No I don’t see. If you want to carry it, that’s you call. Now I need a pee and I have no clue how long that will take me.’
‘There’s one thing I can’t do right now and that is wait. Don’t move. I don’t want to lose you in this crush.’
John watched her go. Lose me in the crush when I’m dressed as a seven-foot dragon? As if. He smoothed his rubbered hands round the large gold ovoid. Would she buy it? She’d bloody better.
‘Right,’ Janice held her rubber claws under her arms as she tried to dry her hands. ‘So, go on then, explain about the stupid egg.’
It’s Rhodri’s idea.’
‘Right. So it’s stupid.’
‘Yes. No. Thing is the rugby club have said if we pass the egg between us at least once every 500 yards they double our money.’
‘Yes and at the end we can eat it. It’s actually a chocolate egg.’
‘Yes well I may not be Mrs Einstein but I worked that out. Double you say? Is this punishment for having a Welsh boyfriend?’
John nodded, not that it was the most effective gesture.
The marathon itself was awful. The course undulated, the drinks’ stations were cramped and both Janice and John chaffed dreadfully. Grimly though they passed the egg between dropping it several times but never tearing the paper. Each drop and John’s heart raced but there at least luck was on his side.
At the end, Janice held the egg and threw it on the ground. She ripped off her dragon’s head and let out a guttural scream of pain and frustration. ‘You and your bloody marathon, these stupid suits and that awful horrible nasty egg.’ She stamped on the now misshapen ovoid. ‘You,’ each word was accompanied by another stamp, ‘are,’ each stamp ripped the paper and vaporised the chocolate, ‘utterly,’ Janice slowed and peered at the gooey brown and flaky gold mess on the pavement, ‘hateful.’
John was on his knees, helpless to stop the tirade.
Janice bent and eased something from the gloop. ‘John? What’s this?’
He looked up at his girlfriend. ‘A ring. Will you marry me, Janice?’
She goggled at him. ‘Did you get me to run a marathon as a dragon with some cock and bull story about playing rugby with an Easter egg just to pull this stunt at the end?’
He nodded. He had no more to give.
She wrapped her arms around his neck. ‘Of course, I will.’ With her nearest hand, she scooped up the chocolate and wiped it across his face. ‘You utter sod.’