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It was a completely normal day in Bobsville. At least I think that’s the name of the town where the show takes place. Does it even have a name? I don’t remember. Anyways, it was a totally normal day for everyone, aside from a certain builder, as he and his team of living construction vehicles - who may or may not have been part of the same slave trade as Thomas and his friends - were staring at a large, orange egg with a yellow jagged stripe. They were all mighty confused.
“Dizzy, where did you find this egg?” asked Bob.
“Yes,” answered Dizzy, who was now trying to reach for her headphones so she wouldn’t have to put up with this crap story.
“That doesn’t really answer my question,” said Bob, who got no response because Dizzy had put on her headphones.
“What are we going to do with it?” asked Lofty, backing away and almost knocking down a tree. “I think it’s going to bite me.”
“That’s stupid, eggs don’t have teeth,” said Muck. The egg tilted a bit as Wendy came out of the house.
“We need to return the egg to its rightful owner,” said Wendy, who held up a poster of the egg. Normally people don’t make lost posters for eggs, but this egg was speshul so it’s all good.
“But who is the egg’s owner?” asked Dizzy as she headbanged to some awesome death metal music like Nickelback or My Chemical Romance. Scoop rolled his eyes.
“Duh, the thing that laid it,” he said.
“But who laid the egg?” asked Muck.
“Uhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh” said Scoop. Then Roley had an idea.
“We could ask Birb!” he said.
“I NEVER THOUGHT OF THAT!!!!” said Bob. He put the egg in Muck’s digger thing, and he and the team immediately blue-skidooed to the nearest tree, where Borb was conveniently sitting on a branch and doing burd things like tweeting and cleaning feathers and pooping on people’s heads.
“Did you birth this?” asked Muck as she lowered the egg so Bard could see. Brid stared at the egg for what felt like two hours but in reality was only ten seconds.
“NOOT NOOT” Bid tweeted (AN: LOL GEDDIT ITS A PUN!!!), but the others could not understand because they did not speak Italian.
“What did Burb say?” Scoop asked Roley.
“He said we’re dumb if we think that’s his egg. It’s too big and it doesn’t look anything like him,” said Roley.
“Then who could’ve laid the egg?” asked Wendy. Bord was getting annoyed.
“NOOT NOOT NOOT” he said.
“What did Bird say this time?” asked Bob.
“You do not want me to translate that for you,” said Roley.
“Oh okay.”
Some time later, Bob and the gang still could not locate the egg’s owner. Mostly because they had been looking for about four minutes before giving up.
“I don’t know what else to do,” said Bob, who was now very frustrated but still smiling like a sadistic wanker for some reason. “We’ve tried nothing and I’m all out of options.”
“We could hatch the egg ourselves!” said Scoop.
“But we don’t know anything about raising children,” said Muck.
“Maybe we could give it to Pilchard,” said Lofty.
“But then Pilchard will eat it,” said Wendy.
“What do you think, Roley?” asked Bob.
…
“... Roley?” It was then Bob noticed that Roley was extremely high and smoking a very large blunt. “Roley, are you high?”
“No Bob, I’m not.”
“Okay, that’s good. Just making sure.” And so the gang set off again to find the egg’s owner. Everyone was quiet, except for Dizzy who was singing very loud and obnoxious music.
“WELL IF YOU WANTED HONESTY THAT’S ALL YOU HAD TO SAY” sang Dizzy. (AN: I DON’T OWN THE LYRICS TO THAT SONG) She sang so loud that she spooked Muck, who dropped the egg for some reason. The egg landed in a river and was immediately picked up by Spud who was there for some reason.
“My egg now,” said Spud as he ran to Travis and jumped on him. “RIDE LIKE THE WIND, TRAVIS OL’ BOY!” Travis screamed like a horse and drove off with Spud and the egg.
“Oh no,” said Wendy. “Spud has the egg.”
“We have to go after him and get that egg,” said Bob. “Can we catch it?”
There was no response.
“... I said, CAN WE CATCH IT!?” Bob said again, before noticing that all of the vehicles this time were very very high and Dizzy was now listening to Snoop Dogg.
“Wendy, did you give them pot biscuits again?” asked Bob.
“Oops.”
Some time later, Spud and Travis were at the park with the egg, where Spud was playing Overwatch on his PSP and was so busy pwning n0obs that he didn’t notice Bob and the others have found him.
“Spud, you must give us back egg,” said Bob.
“It’s my egg, bugger off,” said Spud.
“But we need to return the egg to its rightful owner,” said Wendy. “It’s not yours.”
“I will sell it to you,” said Spud.
“Name your price,” said Bob.
“Perhaps you could set me up on a date with Dizzy?” asked Spud, and Bob punched him IN THE FACE for daring to ask such a stupid question. Scoop would’ve thrown up over hearing this question but alas he was incapable of opening his mouth.
“Okay…” moaned Spud. “Then maybe you could get me all the vegetables in Farmer Pickles’ farm?” And so, Bob took Scoop and they went to Farmer Pickles’ farm to get the vegetables. Scoop dug up all the vegetables, and Bob left him a pie and an IOU to say soz. They took the vegetables to Spud, who immediately went to town on them despite being a scarecrow and not having a stomach or any sort of internal organs.
“That was scrump-diddly-umptious,” said Spud and he burped loudly, which was kinda gross. “Now you may have egg,” and he carelessly threw the egg at the Bob like an American football but Bob caught it because he’s just that badass. Spud jumped onto Travis and said “C’mon, Travis, let’s go watch EastEnders or something British like that,” and they drove away into the sunset.
“We should take the egg back home before somebody else steals it or gets high again,” said Bob. Unfortunately, it was too late, for Roley had already gotten high again. But nobody cared, so it was all good.
Later that day, Bob went into his office to check on Wendy and the egg.
“What are you doing, wife?” asked Bob.
“I’m polishing the egg,” said Wendy. “This article said that polishing the egg helps bond with the baby.” She pointed to an article on her extremely outdated computer.
“Might as well since we have no idea whose egg this is,” said Bob. “Hey, doesn’t that blog belong to the crazy lady who sleeps with trains?”
“Probably,” said Wendy. “But it was the only info I could find on how to care for weird eggs.”
“Good enough for me,” said Bob. “Imagine, a world where people live alongside sentient trains. How foolish!”
And everything was good.
The end.