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"MEEP MEEP!"
Wile E. Coyote looked up from the hole he was in just in time to see the afterimage of the Roadrunner. He groaned and pulled himself out of the hole. Another day, another failure.
An hour later, Wile E. entered into his mountain top cave and threw the remnants of his last attempt into a pile to be sorted later. Maybe he could still salvage the rockets off his skates.
He stretched his arms over his head with a satisfying pop then sat at his desk. A pile of unopened mail was strewn about on top of his blueprints. Junk mail, junk mail, advertisement, coupons. He rolled his eyes at the waste of paper. Then he saw it.
An advert for a petting zoo. It offered the usual things like goats and sheep and even a miniature horse for kids to pet and feed, but what really caught his eye was the learning center offering a chance to see incubating eggs. Most importantly, the promise of a roadrunner egg among the mix of chicken and duck eggs. A plan started to form in his mind.
Swiping the junk mail off his desk, he whipped out a new blueprint sheet and got to work.
1. Break into the petting zoo after hours.
2. Get the egg.
3. Incubate the egg until it hatches and raise the chick until nice and plump.
4. Marinate, dry rub and BBQ
He wiped the drooled off his chin as the images of roasted bird took over his eyes. It was brilliant. It was perfect. Nothing could go wrong this time.
*
Breaking into the petting zoo was much easier than he thought it would go. The security was laughable and the egg exhibit even had a giant sign above it. A quick snip of wire cutters and he was through the fence. He tip toed to the little shed and flattened against the wall, peeking around for any sign of movement.
He pulled out a bobby pin, unlocked the door and slipped in quickly. The faint warm glow of the incubators filled the shed. He looked around, peering into each one. Too small, too many, not the right color. He shook his head.
Almost to the end, there is was. A pale yellow egg much bigger than the others. A baby basket was pulled out and he slipped his hand into the incubator. The roadrunner egg was much warmer than he anticipated. He licked his lips and for a moment, he had the idea of cooking up a big omelet instead. The Coyote shook his head again to clear out the thought. The egg was tucked under the blanket in the basket and he was out the door.
*
Elsewhere
The Roadrunner scratched at the ground. The Coyote shaped hole in the ground was empty. He tilted his head and looked around at the sand. The Coyote was late. He usually took a day or two between attempts, maybe more if he had a bigger trap to set up, but it had been almost five days since the bird had last seen him.
No piles of bird seed, no random structures, not even a speck of paint out of place in the endless desert. He glared his eyes at the empty road. A lizard dared to try to sneak by and he snatched it up for a quick snack. If Wile E. was going to disappear, then the Roadrunner will just have to go look for him.
*
A trail of dust floated in the air as the Roadrunner arrived at the entrance to Wile E.'s mountain cave. He had long since found out the location after a prior incident of the Coyote going missing. It had turned out the guy just had a cold.
The Roadrunner strutted into cave. It was filled with organized piles of both failed attempts and new equipment. A path wound thru to multiple alcoves set up for the Coyote's different needs. As he walked further in, he could hear the clattering of cookware in the makeshift kitchen.
He rounded a pile to the last alcove before the main living quarters when he saw it. A nest. A nicely made nest with just the right amount of feathers and twigs and random fluff. He bent down to inspect it closer. His feathers, he realized. He pulled back, wondering at it. The Coyote must have collected these over years of molts and stray feathers falling off during a chase. And right in the middle of this perfect and warm nest was an egg.
Did Wile E. make this just for him? Was it another silly trap? He leaned down again and gave a sniff. It was a real egg sitting among his feathers. The Roadrunner stood and made up his mind.
'Well, don't mind if I do'
The Roadrunner fluffed up as he sat on the nest. He squinted at the complicated heat lamp over it. Very much Wile E.'s handywork. He stood up once more, kicked the whole contraption away and sat back on the nest.
*
Wile E. was pulling out some distinctly non-roadrunner eggs for breakfast when a loud bang and crunch rang out. He scrambled to catch the eggs. Juggling them for a moment before grabbing the hot pan off the stove and letting them fall in. He glared at the now shell filled pan and sighed as he put it back on the stove. Not much he could do about it now.
He stomped over to where the sound came from and was instantly worried when he realized it was near the nest alcove. Did another coyote get in? Did the lamp collapse and crush the egg? He sprinted over to the nest alcove, turned the corner and saw... the Roadrunner?
What remained of the poor heat lamp was laying in pieces feet away from the nest. Wile E. put his hands on his hips. He looked at the smug face of the Roadrunner and darted his eyes towards the heat lamp. The Roadrunner looked away with his nose up in the air. Wile E. gasped. He worked really hard on that!
Wile E. then gestured with his hand at the nest and its uninvited occupant. The Roadrunner blew a raspberry. The bird smiled again and pointed with his beak to behind the Coyote. A plume of black smoke wafted out over his head from the burning eggs. The Roadrunner chuckled as he watched the Coyote run back to salvage his breakfast.
*
To say the least, the next few days were strange. To say the most, the Roadrunner had basically moved into the Coyote's cave.
The Roadrunner didn't budge from the nest while he was there. Wile E. had attempted to pull him off once but it was like the bird was glued to it. The Coyote then spent the first few hours going back and forth in his head about what to do.
On one hand, the Roadrunner was right there! Sitting still! Not moving or running or even trying to get away. Wile E. could eat him at any moment. The bird was a literal sitting roadrunner.
On the other hand, the guy was doing the Coyote a solid by helping to care for the egg. He seemed to know just when to move it and for how long to sit on it. That left plenty of time for Wile E. to read up on proper care for raising meat fouls.
He took a seat on a cushion by the nest. The Coyote set down a plate of roasted insects with a drizzle of fruit sauce in front of the Roadrunner. If he played his cards right, he might just get two birds with one nest. He'll get the Roadrunner nice and fattened up while he was here and then do the same with the chick.
Wile E. popped open book his book and attempted to read. It was hard to concentrate when he was so distracted. The Coyote had never really been able to just look at the bird this close for so long. He usually got more time looking at the guy's afterimage then the actual bird himself.
The Roadrunner had finished his meal and tucked his head on his back. The Coyote stared at that feathered head over his book. Its giant plume and silky smooth layers. He reached over, put his hand on the back of the bird's head... and pinched. There were strange white shafts on some of the blue feathers. He rubbed them between his fingers and they broke apart into dust.
The Roadrunner opened one eye to peek over skeptically at the Coyote. He had put down the book and was preening the bird's head feathers. It felt really nice. The Roadrunner closed his eye and allowed Wile E. to continue.
*
"MEEP MEEP."
Wile E. groaned and shifted in his bed. The mattress on the floor was not fancy but it was comfortable.
"MEEP MEEP!"
He looked up groggily at the bird standing over him and rolled back over with a pillow over his head. The Coyote had just gone to sleep an hour ago. What could he possibly need?
The Roadrunner puffed up in annoyance and pecked at the pillow until the Coyote pulled it off to squint at him. Wile E. slowly pulled out a sign.
'What?' the coyote's sign asked.
'Your turn' the Roadrunner's sign read in reply. He pulled on the Coyote with his beak and the Coyote yipped as he hit the cold floor. He got up, dusting himself off, and pulled the fallen blanket around himself.
The Roadrunner nodded his head towards the nest. He watched as the Coyote sleepily walked over it. Wile E. gently shuffled down onto the tangle of twigs and feather he had woven. It was quite comfortable. He curled up around the egg with the blanket thrown over it. The Roadrunner smiled as he gave one last Meep and strutted out to the cave entrance.
Wile E. lifted an eyebrow. Strange but so was this whole situation. He snuggled down and went back to sleep.
*
They set up a schedule. Or to say, Roadrunner set up a schedule and Wile E. wrote it down on the calendar. The Roadrunner took most of day shift while the Coyote took over at night. He didn't question where the bird went or what he did. Wile E. had tried to follow him one night but the bird had chased him back into the cave while beeping angrily.
The Coyote also learned very quickly not to go to bed too early or else his unwanted roommate will get very peckish.
Every morning, the Roadrunner would walk back in to wake him up and sit on the nest. The Coyote will then make both of them breakfast and read up on poultry farming. He'll clean up and maybe go for a run to keep up his speed, just in case. It felt weirdly uninspiring to run by himself. He knew the Roadrunner wouldn't move from where he was but it still made him feel antsy.
Wile E. was alone in wide open desert. No goal, no finish line, no object of his desire. Just an endless, empty road. The Coyote set up a treadmill in the cave by then end of the first week. It was positioned just right to still keep the Roadrunner in his sight.
In the afternoon, he'll sort through his piles of gadgets and various contraptions. There was a backlog of items that either needed to be scrapped or exchanged for replacements. On occasion, he'll sit at his desk to draw out potential plans. He didn't think he'll fail at this necessarily, just, you know, in case it didn't work out like he wanted.
The evenings were marked by a gourmet dinner and a bit of tv watching. He had pulled the tv from its sitting room alcove to in front of the nest. He really didn't want to admit it but it was fun cooking for a guest. He had a whole collection of cookbooks to try out! BBQ, baking, Keto, southwestern style and global dishes.
Wile E. had been very surprised to learn what kind of things the Roadrunner actually ate, other than birdseed. The guy also ate poultry, small reptiles and different kinds of insects.
The Roadrunner's favorite dish so far was a roast Quail pie. He wouldn't want to admit it, but he was a terrible cook. All left feet he had signed to Wile E. That earned a chuckle.
When it became Wile E.'s turn, the Roadrunner simply meeped loudly until the Coyote came over with his blanket. The bird would then stretch and walk around to warm up his legs. He checked over Wile E. to make sure he was settled in, even tucking him in at one point, before jogging out to the entrance.
Coyote watched him leave. Two weeks of this and it was starting to feel normal. Welcomed even. He reached over to turn on a nearby stereo and grabbed a pair of headphones. They were fitted over the egg as classical music played.
*
A scream of enraged beeps filled the cave. The Roadrunner sat angrily on the nest as he let out a series of loud beeps at the intruder. A pale brown coyote had creeped around the mound of unopened boxes with a hungry smile.
There he was, the infamous Roadrunner. He had been missing for a while now and everyone had been placing bets on if Wile E. Coyote had finally caught him. The pale coyote had decided he couldn't bear the curiosity any longer and went to the mountain cave himself. And oh boy, he could not believe his luck. Not only was the Roadrunner still alive, but he was literally a sitting duck! On a nest! A nest meant eggs and eggs meant more food.
Why was the Roadrunner hiding a nest in Wile E.'s cave? The pale coyote didn't give it much thought. He tied a handkerchief around his neck and pulled out a fork and knife. The bird stood up viciously but made no move to actually leave the nest. A pale yellow egg sat snuggly in a pile of blue feathers. The pale coyote creeped closer and closer. The Roadrunner tried to peck at him when he got too close. The pale coyote crouched down and lunged full force at the bir-
BAM!
Stars spun over his head as he hit the wall. The pale coyote slid down slowly before being peeled off by a hand around his neck. He caught a glimpse of the scowling face of one Wile E. Coyote before he was slammed back into the wall.
BAM! BAM! CRACK!
The intruder was thrown into the ground and then into a large pile of boxes. They fell on him one after another as the magnets inside pulled to and away from each other.
Wile E. grabbed onto the handkerchief and dragged the banged up coyote to the entrance of the cave. He held up one sign stating 'And don't come back!' then threw him off the side of the mountain.
Wile E. dusted his hands off and walked back to the mess he had made. His ears flopped as he realized how long it's going to take to clean it up when he heard a quiet "Meep".
The Coyote ran back to the nest to check on his unexpected roommate. The bird was patient as he looked over every part of him and the nest. Not a feather or twig out of place. Wile E. let out a sigh of relieve.
The Roadrunner blinked proudly at him. He pulled the Coyote closer and started to nibble on his fur. It was a little ticklish as first but soon the Coyote relaxed. He curled up next to the nest as the Roadrunner checked him over for any ticks.
*
The day of hatching was on a bright afternoon almost three weeks after the egg was brought to the cave. Wile E. was lounging on his DIY recliner by the nest as a movie played on the tv. He had finished his backlog of work a while ago and was using the extra time to spruce up the cave.
Suddenly, Roadrunner started to beep urgently and stood up from the nest. He backed away and leaned down to stare at the egg. Coyote fumbled with the remote before successfully turning off the tv. He too stared at the egg.
It wiggled and rolled around for a bit. The pair watch it for what felt like forever before the chick started to pip. A soft beeping could be heard as the shell cracked little by little. The Coyote rung his hands. He really, really, really wanted to reach over and pull the shell off the little chick but he knew this was an important step. They need to do this on their own.
The Roadrunner paced around. This was his first egg! He knew he had to be patient, but it was so hard! How long did his mom say it took him to hatch? Hours and hours, ugh. He pushed Wile E. over to make room on the chair. It was a snug fit but they made it work.
*
The coyote's eyes were bloodshot from staying up all night. He had read that it could take anywhere from 12 to 24 hours for a chick to fully hatch but he just couldn't take his eyes off of it. What if another coyote snuck in? What if the chick couldn't make it out? What if the worst case scenario happened!?
The Roadrunner had fallen asleep at some point with his head in Wile E.'s lap. The Coyote had been absentmindedly carding his fingers through the bird's soft plume of feathers.
The chick finally broke free late the next morning. He was a straggly little thing with swollen eyes and a spattering of wet feathers.
Wile E. madly shook the Roadrunner awake. He pointed that beaked head towards the nest as the bird blinked wildly.
"Meep meep!" the Roadrunner cried in joy. He grinned at the Coyote.
'It's small' Wile E.'s sign read.
The chick struggled to stand and fell over. It meeped pitifully.
'It too small!' the next sign read. The Coyote's eyes flicked from the new chick and the grown bird.
The Roadrunner huffed in amusement and held up his own sign, 'It's a baby' He flipped it, 'It's going to be small'
'For how long??' It was like all that reading had flown out of the Coyote's head the second the egg finally hatched.
The Roadrunner smiled and walked off to the kitchen. He came back with a towel and dropped it into the Coyote's lap who quickly went to work cleaning off the little chick.
*
Curl E. Roadrunner. He was a little bird with the beginnings of a spunky personality. A tall plume of feathers protrude from the top of his head and helped to contribute to his namesake.
'Food, food, food!' Curl E. waved his sign around the kitchen like a worker on strike. Mealtime had to be worst time, Wile E. Coyote decided.
One that first day after hatching, the Coyote had set up a coffee table in the nest alcove with a nice table cloth and place settings. Only the best for his future meals. He put down a plate for his gracious roommate like normal and held a bottle of blended up food for the chick.
The Roadrunner took the bottle in his talon and tossed it at the wall. Wile E. was shocked and appalled by the mess. He glared at the bird. The bird in turn chugged down his own plate of food and, after a moment, started to hack violently.
Wile E. was even more offended by that. His food was quick top notch, in his opinion!
The Roadrunner continued hacking and coughing until finally, the regurgitated meal rested back in the bird's mouth. The baby chick screamed silently in excitement and waited as the adult bird fed him.
Wile E. looked positively green. He pushed away his own meal and turned around. Why, oh why, did it have to be so gross in real life! The books never mentioned this!? It just said the food needed to be mushed up like normal baby food, though of course, the book was for farmers who didn't have a parent bird to help raise the chick. And all the hacking and ugh, he only needed to see his cooking eaten once.
Over the next few days, the Coyote did try once or twice to feed Curl E. in a more proper and decent way. He had proudly presented the bottle to the chick who stared at it in confusion. The Roadrunner took the bottle from Wile E. and smiled sweetly. He then turned smug, chugged the contents, and hacked it back up for the cheering baby bird. The Coyote is now 'too busy' to eat with them until the chick was old enough to eat real food.
*
Almost a month had passed and Curl E. was growing up fast. He was almost half as tall as the Roadrunner and only half as fast in speed. Curl E. enjoyed training on the treadmill in his bedroom alcove that the Coyote had been nice enough to give up.
The Coyote also set up a race track by the base of the mountain home and ran laps with his little blue chick. It wasn't as satisfying as his mad dash chases with the grown Roadrunner but he'll get there some day.
The Roadrunner sat on the sideline with a timer in one foot and a whistle in the other.
'Ready!'
'Set!'
'Go!!!' The Roadrunner blew the whistle.
Wile E. and Curl E. shot forward from the starting line. They raced neck in neck around the track. The Coyote took an early lead with two laps. He swatted the chick's plume each time he lapped him. Curl E. felt his heart sink and he start to slow down.
"Meep, Meep. Meep!" Roadrunner sounded determinately. He gave his chick an encouraging look and Curl E. sped up.
...98, 99, 100!
The two racers stopped and panted at the finish line.
'Too slow' read the little bird's sign. Curl E. frowned, kicking a rock. He had managed to catch up to the Coyote at one point but fell behind at the end. He could tell Wile E. had slowed down to not lap him the last few times.
'Never give up, never surrender' Wile E.'s sign read. He offered a reassuring smile.
'Try, try again' read the Roadrunner's sign.
Curl E. frown even more glumly. 'I try, try and still too slow' He threw his sign on the ground.
'No one is born perfect' 'Keep at it, like me!' 'I'm the fastest coyote around' Wile E.'s signs read as he spun them. He picked up the sign and gave it back to the little bird.
'You race then' Curl E.'s sign read. He stamped his feet. 'Never seen you two run' 'For real, not practice'
The Coyote and the Roadrunner looked at each other. Us run? For real? Has it really been so long since they last gave chase to each other? Babies were so much work and took up so much of their time. It felt too easy to fall into a routine and neglect the very thing that lead them here.
They both smiled and nodded to their chick.
*
Curl E. Roadrunner was confused when the two had sat him on a ledge with a pair of binoculars and a view of the whole desert valley. They stood far below him on the long, winding road with the Roadrunner in front and the Coyote just a step behind.
Two months, almost over two months since they had last gave chase. The Roadrunner was buzzing with energy. It had been the most wonderful break, sitting on a warm nest and being feed like a king. But, he missed it. The open road, the wind on his face. The thrilling rush of moving out of the way at the very last second. He scratched impatiently at the road.
Behind him, Wile E. Coyote shook out his limbs. It was barely a warm up on the track earlier and he was raring to go. All that time cooped up in his cave or sticking so close by. He hopped around in anticipation. Finally, he got to let loose and go full throttle.
A traffic light the coyote had rigged up flashed.
Red
Yellow
Green, errrrr! The starting buzzer echoed out.
Only dust and afterimages as they ran. Curl E. stared transfixed through the binoculars as the pair dashed down the road. They sprinted thru hairpin turns, corkscrews, practically up cliffsides and ducking under rock formations. Seemingly hundreds of miles crossed over and over again without a hint of slowing down.
*
Hours and hours until long after the sun had set they ran. The Coyote started to throw in a few bombs or trip wires to keep it fresh. The Roadrunner blew raspberries as he dodged each one with practiced ease. They laughed and ran and chased until finally the Coyote slipped on his own oil slick trap and slammed into a painted rock wall.
The Roadrunner skidded to a stop in a cloud of dust. He trotted over to check on the Coyote.
The Coyote in question peeled off the wall and floated gently to the ground. He blew on this thumb to reinflate with a pop.
"Meep Meep. Pbbbt," the Roadrunner blew at him.
'Right back at you' The Coyote held up his sign while also trying to shake off his coat. The Roadrunner meeped at him again and trotted back off to where they had left the chick.
'How cute' Wile E.'s sign read.
"Meep Meep," he agreed.
By the time they had jogged back to the cliffside, Curl E. had fallen asleep. The Coyote picked him up and carried him home to the cave.
*
Months passed by as the chick grew into a proper young adult. He was now as tall as the Roadrunner with a speed almost to match.
Things were quaint at home in the mountainside cave. The Coyote made nutritious, tasty meals and spent time teaching him all the most complicated mechanics of acme engineering. The Roadrunner took him on runs and taught him all kinds of trick moves to get out from a predator's reach.
Curl E. had been chased by an assailant coyote one day and was very amused when his own Coyote had flung the guy across the desert with a contraption that didn't look like it should have worked as well as it did. The Roadrunner blew raspberries at the shrinking figure and escorted him back home.
This day, the whole family was out for run. The Coyote taking up the rear, the Roadrunner leading in the front and Curl E. snuggly in the middle.
The days were shorter and the nights lingered on. Curl E. ran across the open desert on that long winding road. He felt lighter that day. Like something had changed. He had changed. He was taller now, his plume didn't weight him down so much. The wind felt less like a barrier and more like a teammate.
Wile E. Coyote had known this day might come, yet it came too soon. He felt it as the no-longer-a-chick pulled away. He watched as the little bird's feet started to blur and matched neck and neck with the Roadrunner. They were two beautiful blue streaks racing against the sun.
The Roadrunner saw it out of his peripheral vision. The endless desert being blocked by a familiar blue bird. Little Curl E. was keep pace with him. The road turned and bended and shifted but he stayed right next to the older Roadrunner. And for once in a long time, Roadrunner felt himself slow down. He relaxed his stride and watched his chick race ahead.
*
Curl E. Roadrunner stood at the entrance of the cave with a suitcase. The duo watched him, teary eyed as he gave a goodbye Meep. He was grown now, time to find his own way in world. Maybe even find his own partner to chase or be chased by.
Wile E. Coyote wiped his eyes futilely as he watched his chick jog away into the endless desert. One day, the egg would hatch. One day, the chick would grow plump and juicy. One day, the bird would end up on his plate. One day didn't come. It was just another failure in a pile of failures that filled his life. And yet, one day never needed to come. Maybe today was enough.
The Roadrunner felt still. He never knew how to feel about that egg he found. In his friend's cave. In a nest filled with his feathers. He was worried of course, it was a defenseless egg! It was the one and only Wile E. Coyote! And yet, somehow, he knew the chick would be fine. The Coyote will fail successfully just like always in the best possible way.
In the end, the Coyote never ended up with any roadrunner as dinner and he was perfectly content about it. He sat on his couch and turned on his tv to his favorite cooking channel while his favorite roommate sat next to him and laid his head in the Coyote's lap. Wile E. watched as the celebrity chef made roast pheasant with a cranberry sauce as he pinched away the pin feathers.