Chapter Text
We're in the american southwest. The desert terrain mainly consists of basins broken by numerous small mountain ranges. Almost serene in a way, albeit only due to the intense heat that weighs on the landscape, especially at this midday hour when the sun unmistakably reveals its nature as a colossal ball of gas. Some animal species, such as the greater roadrunner, commonly bridge this time by retreating to shady spots until the afternoon sets in.
A perfect opportunity for a certain coyote to tinker away in his cave.
One might believe that Wile E. Coyote should've starved by now due to his fruitless crusade.
However his need to catch this bird has long surpassed a simple hunt for food, as evidenced by the bones scattered outside his cave (and also the fact that he's a toon, but I digress). Technically speaking he could give up the chase all together and go for whatever prey is most vailable at the moment if it were really just about keeping himself alive and well fed. The Coyote could give up his futile pursue any moment - weren't he a fanatic.
What started out as a simple goal anyone could set for themselves has long since derailed into a full on obsession. It is no longer about just any roadrunner. It's about THE Road Runner.
Wile E. has tried just about anything to catch this blue gumball son of a bitch and endured endless pain and suffering because of it, may it be due to rocks or anvils dropping on his head, him being shot, run over or mauled or blown up by dynamite. And let's surely not forget the running gag of him falling off cliffs. He's endured it all. And yet he perserveres.
The cool shade of his cave provides the perfect setting for his superior intellect to kick into high gear. Surrounded by countless ACME packages, instruction manuals, screws, nuts, and all manner of odds and ends, Wile E. sits hunched over his desk, putting together his latest trap- one with which he will surely, definitely, and undoubtedly catch the Road Runner.
Resembling a simple egg timer at first glance, the contraption doesn't look particularly impressive initially. Yet there is a reason for its two-part design: a hollow space between the upper and lower halves of the egg holds enough dynamite and gunpowder to turn a racing cuckoo into roast chicken in mere seconds. The explosive charge is, in effect, housed within where the yolk would be in a chicken egg.
Wile E. chuckles quietly and maliciously to himself as he screws the capsule shut and applies the finishing touches. The bird won't know what hit him.
Outside, the scorching sun was already past its zenith as Wile E. set out to prepare the trap. Extensive study had revealed to him that male roadrunners also participate in incubating the eggs, taking turns with the females. He had learned this from an old bird encyclopedia—an heirloom from his father that he had pored over time and again in search of new ideas. He also discovered that roadrunners are indeed capable of flying very short distances, even if their wings aren't exactly top-notch. This information gave the coyote pause, as he had personally never seen the bastard fly. Then again, he should probably count his blessings; the bird was insufferable enough as it was. If he could fly, he might flutter right around Wile E.’s head or torment him in other ways. No, thanks.
Wile E. gathers all manner of twigs, branches, and other plant matter to quickly assemble a provisional bird's nest, into which he places the egg-shaped bomb. He fervently hopes his prey will accept a nest sitting randomly in the middle of the desert. Yet perhaps that very randomness will work to his advantage. He simply needs to count on strong paternal instincts that would encourage the Road Runner to take the egg under his wing.
Wile E. rubs his hands together at the thought of his diabolical plan going off without a hitch.
Moments later, the coyote hides behind a cluster of cacti. Now, all he has to do is wait...
And sure enough, just a short while later, an approaching cloud of dust becomes visible in the far distance. Wile E. lowers his binoculars and, with a mischievous grin, ducks a little lower behind the cacti. The dust cloud crosses several hills before coming to a dead stop right next to the haphazardly constructed nest. Road Runner wobbles slightly from his remaining momentum as his eyes lock onto the nest; it has certainly caught his attention. Wile E. places a hand over his snout to avoid making any accidental noise that might scare the bird off prematurely. His heart races triumphantly as he watches Road Runner approach the nest.
The bird appears curious as ever, yet also somewhat wary, judging by the way he casts a few sidelong glances to ensure he is truly alone. At first, Wile E. thinks the bird has seen through his scheme, but he soon realizes the reason for this behavior: Road Runner wants to make sure the nest is abandoned.
Road Runner moves closer to the nest and nudges the egg with the tip of his beak. He immediately pulls his head back, seemingly waiting for a reaction that never comes. Road Runner leans down again and nudges the egg. He looks up and glances around, but spots no potential parents nearby. Well aware of how territorial his species is, Road Runner assumes the poor little egg has truly been left behind for whatever reason. Without further hesitation, he steps into the nest and slowly but surely lowers his backside onto the egg. He shifts back and forth a few times before finally settling in.
Wile E. is momentarily stunned by the realization that he has never seen the bird sitting so still before, but then he snaps out of it and pulls out the remote control for his homemade bomb. A grin spreads across his face as his finger hovers over the red button—the one that will activate the bomb and blow that blasted bird sky-high. He isn't going to waste any time.
He presses the button and braces himself for the blast. But he hears nothing at all... Was the explosion so loud that his eardrum burst? Wile E. opens his eyes and sees Road Runner still contentedly incubating the egg.
What the...
He presses the button again, this time with more force. When once again nothing happens, Wile E. begins to lose his patience and angrily hammers at the buttons until the remote finally shatters, sending the red button—propelled by its spring—flying straight into his eye.
Wile E. jumps and, in a moment of rashness, clutches the cactus in front of him, which immediately pricks him all over. The beleaguered coyote howls in pain, flailing and kicking wildly in his distress before collapsing flat on his face.
Still a little dazed, he slowly forces his eyes open and sees three blurry Road Runners above him. Eventually they merge into a single figure casting curious glances his way.
Road Runner pulls out a sign that says: "I'm sure it's a girl!" before sticking out his tongue, letting out a cheerful "Beep Beep!" and zooming off with the egg tucked under his wing, leaving the coyote in a cloud of dust.
Well, that plan went down like a lead balloon.
Road Runner carries the egg safely cushioned between his feathers across the vast desert before reaching his nest in the early evening. It lies well-protected beneath a rocky overhang in a niche of a towering cliff, where the sun rarely shines directly upon it. Road Runner is hardly ever here, after all he spends his days running about and only stays for a few hours to sleep or wait out the midday heat.
But starting today, his nest would serve as a real home for raising a new generation.
Road Runner feels anticipation rising within him. He was going to be a father! He never imagined he would be granted such an honor. He carefully places the egg in the nest and gently settles down over it. Desert nights are bitterly cold, and he wants his future daughter to stay warm.
Content, Road Runner closes his eyes, indulging in vivid daydreams about his future as a father. He would have to preen and feed the chick, and teach it how to hunt...
A sudden, brief jolt beneath him snaps him out of his thoughts. What was that? Was it hatching already?!
Puzzled, Road Runner lifts his body slightly and peeks underneath to check on the egg. It lies there peacefully. That must have been a heartbeat!
Filled with joy, Road Runner settles back into his former position. What a wonderful day it had been! And now Wile E. knew about his good fortune, too. Road Runner would have told his longtime best friend anyway, but a series of lucky coincidences had ensured the coyote was already there to hear the news in person.
Road Runner snuggles into his nest and closes his eyes. He can hardly wait for tomorrow.