Raising Egg Children For Dummies

Author's Note: So this story was inspired by DeadPoet0712 googling "cute babies" because she's obsessed like that and by Blackbirdox and I talking about (what else) Chameron. Contrary to what it may appear, this isn't a Chameron fic…although maybe I'll imply it if I feel the need…

Anyway, so I'd like to thank both of them for this lovely story (when will I stop starting stories while my others lay unfinished?). Hopefully you all enjoy :)

Disclaimer: I don't own the Dead Poets, but a carton full of eggs does reside in my fridge.

Summary: Raising children is women's work, it's not required of men…but the boys at Welton are required to try.

Charlie was hiding in one of the small alcoves all over Welton Academy, a permanent marker poised in his hand and staring down at the egg that was cradled in the other. He raised an eyebrow and stuck out his tongue in concentration before squiggling a goofy smile and wide eyes upon the surface of the thing, grinning proudly at his finished project. Well, almost finished.

He shoved the black marker into the pocket of his Welton uniform jacket and hurried back up to his dorm, poking his nose around the door to make sure that Cameron wasn't around before hustling over to the ginger-haired boy's desk and rutting around for a red marker next. If all else failed, he supposed he could always use his bottle of red paint, but markers dried faster. And, for some reason beyond Charlie's comprehension, Dick was the only poet that possessed a red permanent marker.

Of course, he was also the one poet that wouldn't allow Charlie to use said permanent marker. But Charlie was determined, not to mention sneaky, and he finally procured the marker, ready to draw on a mop of hair, when a strangled cry of "NOOOOOO!" was heard from the doorway and Charlie was tackled backwards onto Cameron's bed.

"Oof!" Charlie wheezed out, checking to make sure the egg was fine before rolling onto his back and glaring up at his roommate. "What were you thinking? You could have killed Egbert!"

Cameron stood from the bed, one hand straightening out his rumpled shirt. "I was thinking that I shouldn't allow you to tattoo our child!" he declared, snatching the egg from Charlie's grasp. "And we're not naming it 'Egbert'." What a ridiculous name. It deserved something proper…like Benedict or something. And then they could call him Benny. How adorable.

Charlie rolled his eyes, situating himself more comfortably on Cameron's bed. "Egbert is a respectable name," he defended, sitting up and pulling a cigarette from the pack he kept stowed in the pockets of his coat. He popped it between his lips, raising his eyebrows at Cameron in challenge. He would fight for the right to name his egg-child Egbert if he had to.

Cameron screeched, tackling Charlie again and removing the cigarette before stomping it into nothing on their dorm room floor. "You can't smoke around babies, Charlie! Don't you know anything?" Charlie was going to be the death of both Cameron and Benedict.

"My smoke!" Charlie cried in dismay, neither of the boys noticing that the forgotten Benedict-Egbert was rolling precariously close to the open door…

Knox and Hopkins were making their way cordially back to their room together. Knox was holding their egg, whom he had dubbed as 'Chris', tenderly in both hands, cradling it in front of his chest. "Isn't it precious?" he asked in awe, as if the egg wasn't from an egg carton their teacher had bought at the grocery store, but an actual child that he had just given birth to.

Hopkins made a face and glanced over at Knox. "It's an egg."

"But it's our egg," Knox replied in the same amazed tone.

Hopkins groaned, smacking his palm to his face. "Well as long as you don't teach it how to write bad poetry I suppose it's fine…"

And then there was a loud crunch beneath Knox's feet and both boys came to an abrupt halt, exchanging a horrified glance. Simultaneously they both tilted their heads towards the floor, egg yolk spread gruesomely beneath Knox's shoes.

"BENEDICT!" Cameron screamed in dismay, lurching out into the hallway.

Charlie followed lazily behind his hysterical roommate. "Oh. Egbert. No," he protested in monotone, finally lighting a cigarette and taking a calming pull, one eyebrow raised. "Wait a second...who said we were naming our egg after that glorified fink?"

Knox's eyes grew wide. "Oh. My. God." He paused before shoving his egg at Hopkins and falling to his knees. "I'm a murderer!" he cried out in agony. "I'm not fit to take care of Chris! Be good to her dear Hopkins!"

Hopkins groaned before tucking his and Knox's egg away in his pocket and pulling Knox into a standing position. "Keep it together, Overstreet." He shrugged at Cameron. "Sorry."

Charlie smirked. "No problem, it was a bastard child anyway…"

"Charlie! How can you say that?" Cameron gaped.

Charlie blinked in response. "Well we're not married, Dick, so it's a bastard child…"

"That's your child that just got ran over by a car! That is your future!"

Charlie snorted. "My future just got plowed down by Knoxious…how odd…" He shook his head, turning from the hallway and retreating to his bed where he could continue to casually smoke and study his Playboys.

Cameron remained in the hallway, solemnly staring down at what was left of his egg. "Poor Benedict never stood a chance with a father like Charlie…" And then Cameron realized that this meant a failing grade. His eyes grew to the size of saucers and he shook with rage. "CHARLIE!" he growled, rushing back into his room.

Across the hall, Neil and Todd were doing just fine. A small Puck-ish crown was placed on their upright egg, which was nestled in a pile of dirty laundry that Neil had fashioned into a makeshift crib for their child.

"Hi Shaky…" Neil cooed at the egg, petting its head with the tip of his pointer finger and grinning from ear to ear. He had always wanted to be a father and now was his chance.

Todd was sitting on his bed, shaking his head, but smiling to himself all the same. "Neil, maybe you should just call him 'Shakespeare'…Shaky sounds weird…"

Neil rolled his eyes. "It's a nickname, Toddy," he replied, turning to face his roommate and sticking out his tongue.

Todd laughed quietly, glancing back down at the notebook he had begun their 'Baby Log' in. So far it read: Neil dotes on egg. Neil names egg. Neil makes crown for egg. Neil buries egg in dirty laundry to make it 'comfortable'. Neil plays peek-a-boo with egg. Neil sticks tongue out at Todd.

Meeks adjusted his glasses, staring intently at the place on the egg that their teacher had signed. It was supposed to be how their teacher determined whether or not the egg that was returned at the end of the week was the original one, and not just one that the boys had bought after killing their first assigned egg. Little did the teacher know that Meeks was an amateur forger, specializing in tricky signatures. Such as the one this teacher possessed.

Pitts was fiddling with the radio on his desk, seemingly oblivious to the fact that eggs had been passed out during class to be taken care of.

Meeks glanced up at the door when it was suddenly burst open. He rolled his eyes and grinned. "I should have known you'd be the first of my peers to seek me out."

Charlie groaned. "Am I that predictable?" he asked, slightly pleased with himself anyway, sucking on an unlit cigarette because he didn't feel like pulling out his lighter.

Pitts glanced up, blinked, and went back to the radio, completely absorbed by the electrical wiring he was doing.

Charlie raised an eyebrow. "You guys getting any further with that?" he questioned, plopping down on Meeks' bed and waiting for Meeks to figure out their teacher's John Hancock.

Meeks shook his head. "Every now and again we get a signal."

Charlie fiddled with the smoke. "That's cool."

"Uh-huh," Meeks replied non-commitally before reaching under his bed and procuring an egg carton. He plucked one from its holder and quickly, not to mention perfectly, scribbled the teacher's name upon it, handing it over to Charlie.

"Keen," Charlie purred.

"Not so fast," Meeks commented, giving Charlie the one-over glance.

Charlie rolled his eyes, pulling the newest Playboy from his coat. "There you go, ya sleaze." Talk about robbing someone blind. Charlie hadn't even been able to properly perv over the centerfold yet. "Oooooh Dick!" he sang, exiting the room.

Meeks took the rest of the eggs from their place in the carton, doodling a signature on each of them before replacing them. And that's when he realized he had no clue which egg was his, and, although he was completely fine with distributing contraband eggs to other students, Meeks had been determined to keep his true egg alive and kicking until the end of the week. Frantically Meeks picked up each egg, beginning to sweat. "Einstein?" he asked desperately, as if his egg-baby were going to jump at the name it had been given.

Pitts glanced up. "Psh, Bohr would have been a much better name." And then he furrowed his brows in that ridiculous way of his and asked, "What are you doing with a carton of eggs?"

Meanwhile, Hopkins was attempting to calm down a distraught Knox. The shorter haired boy groaned, banging his head against his desktop. "Knox. It was an egg. Charlie's already got another one," he assured his roommate.

As if to prove the point, Charlie danced by, holding a new egg over his head triumphantly before dropping it to the floor. "Damn!" he swore, rushing back in the direction he had come from.

Hopkins shook his head. He was surrounded by melodramatic idiots.

Knox suddenly sat up in the bed. "You don't understand…I took a life today!" he wailed, throwing himself back down onto the bed, burying his face in the pillow.

Taking a deep breath, Hopkins poked at the egg that was lolling near his pencil holder. "Would it make you feel better if you practiced reciting your poetry to me again?" he groaned. He hated when Knox acted as if he was Chris just so that he could try out new poems.

Knox perked up immediately. "I've actually been working on what I believe will me my next masterpiece…"

Hopkins groaned, situating himself so that he was looking intently at Knox, and then shut off his brain, going to his happy place.

Mr. Keating had been patrolling the hallways later that day, marveling at the vast amount of egg shells and yolk that were strewn about the typically clean dormitory. The walls were literally caked with the stuff, and every where you stepped there was an irritating crunching sound. He furrowed his brows. He knew this many eggs hadn't been handed out. There was a scrap of paper randomly lying around the abandoned hall and Mr. Keating picked it up. 'Neil dotes on egg. Neil names egg. Neil makes crown for egg. Neil buries egg in dirty laundry to make it 'comfortable'. Neil plays peek-a-boo with egg. Neil sticks tongue out at Todd.' He skimmed down a bit and began reading again. 'People have gone crazy. Yolk is everywhere. Neil chucks egg at a taunting Charlie. Egg is no more. Neil cries. We are all doomed.' Mr. Keating raised an eyebrow.

Knocking on the nearest door, he waited until it was opened, taking one look at a forlorn Spazz and shaking his head. "What happened?"

Spazz sighed heavily. "It was brutal," he said in a somber voice before blowing his nose like a clarinet. "One minute we were all taking care of our eggs and the next thing you know…there's a food fight…and then someone found a carton of eggs and…and…they're all gone!" He wailed, shoving his face into Mr. Keating's chest in agony.

Patting Spazz's back, Mr. Keating murmured, "There, there," in a comforting tone. "You boys were doomed from the start." Especially since Pitts had been instructed to start the epic Egg War of 1959 by Mr. Keating himself…

Author's Note: So I don't know how I feel about the ending, but it just sort of came to me and I couldn't think of anything better. Hopefully it was still enjoyable :)