A Raw Plan
by Kam

The blue uniform held stiff shoulders and enshrouded an angry man.
This angry man was motionless, his ire raised, his eyes vivid, his
jaw set. His fists had been clenching and unclenching for only
seconds, but as the face across from his stared, he realized he may
as well have been standing there for years. Time dripped. So did
the yolk.

This gave new meaning to having egg on one's face.

The man took a deep breath and slowly, carefully, wiped one
eye. "Archie," he said in a controlled voice, "did I, or did I not
say to wait for the signal?"

"You did." Archie Kennedy said quietly. He looked positively
stunned.

"And did you?"

"No, I don't guess I did, Horatio."

"No, you did not. And what we have here is a total waste of a good
egg, an egg, may I remind you, that was supposed to land on the head
of our mutual friend, not my own. Your idea. You remember that?"

"I do." Dammit, his lips were twitching. He was trying not to
smile, the little. . .

"Archie."

"Yes, Horatio?"

"Something tells me your plan failed." A drop of yolk stood out on
his curl, right before his eye, yellow on black.

Archie pulled his lips tight. He exploded in laughter.

Horatio watched his friend double over, slapping his knees, his face
red as the sunset outside. Archie gasped and leaned back against
the wall, took another look at Horatio, and doubled over again.

The mirth was too much. Horatio's own full lips started to curve,
hesitantly at first, and his large eyes rolled up to witness the
drop of yolk slip and fall to the floor. And he started to laugh.

"What a waste of precious egg!" he said.

Archie took in the pleasant view of his friend in unaccustomed
release, his eyes squinted and watering, his hand clutching at the
sudden stitch his side. "Not a total waste," he said, in soft
satisfaction.