Chapter 4: Is Carter Eggs-aggerating?

"Louis, did you notice how the last chapter took place in the morning while the first two took place in the evening?" Newkirk asked the Frenchman as they walked towards the camp's new henhouse.

"Oui, I noticed that," LeBeau replied. "And now it seems that we are back in the evening."

"I wonder if the readers noticed it?" Newkirk asked.

Suddenly a voice boomed overhead. They wouldn't have if you hadn't pointed it out to them! Both men jumped.

"Blimey," Newkirk exclaimed. "Who the bloody 'ell was that?"

"I bet it was that idiot writer," LeBeau speculated. "He's probably sore about us picking apart his story all the time."

"Well too bloody bad!" Newkirk said. "He's the fool that keeps writing these things."

The voice boomed again. I'd be careful if I were you – you could be replaced, you know.

Newkirk smiled. "Promises, promises," he replied.

LeBeau poked Newkirk in the side. "Hey, don't press your luck," he said. "Who knows what might be written for us."

The booming voice began laughing.

Newkirk frowned. "I hate it when you're right, Louis," he said. "It makes me wish that I could leave him a review an tell him what I think about this trash that he calls fiction."

"Why don't you?" LeBeau asked.

"I might just do that," Newkirk decided. "But right now, it seems that he wants us to stop talking about him."

"What makes you say that?" LeBeau asked.

"We're here in front of the henhouse," Newkirk pointed out.

LeBeau looked up at the building in front of him. "This is the henhouse?" he asked. "It looks like it's just the recreation hall with a new sign over the door."

"I know, you have to remember, we're dealing with a limited imagination here," Newkirk said. "Imagine, having a sign over the henhouse door – as if the chickens can read. Come on, let's of in and get Andrew."

"And get our eggs back," LeBeau added.

The two men walked into the henhouse and stopped. They couldn't believe what they saw. Carter was sitting on a crate in the middle of the room holding a blanket in his hands. He had taken all of the eggs and scattered them around the room.

"Where are the chickens?" LeBeau asked.

"There are no chickens," Carter replied.

"Then why do we have a henhouse?" Newkirk asked.

"I built it," Carter replied.

"I think I might regret this," Newkirk said. "But can I ask why?"

"Because it's Easter," Carter replied.

Newkirk was getting a little annoyed by Carter replying all the time. "Andrew, could you do something other than reply to my questions? How about a response, or a comment? I'd even settle for a muse!"

"Sorry," Carter retorted.

"Yeah, like that," Newkirk responded. "Now, what does Easter have to do with a henhouse? And think carefully before you reply."

Carter sighed. "I guess I have to tell you the whole story," he said.

"That might be nice," Newkirk agreed.

"It might be nice for the reader too," LeBeau added. "I'm sure they are just as clueless as we are."

"But not as clueless as our author," Newkirk muttered.

"Fellas, can I explain?" Carter asked. Not waiting for a response, he went on, "First, it's Easter. And what do you see on Easter morning?"

Newkirk opened his mouth to reply, but was cut off as Carter continued.

"Colored eggs. That's what you see," Carter explained. "And where to eggs come from? Chickens, that's where they come from. And where to chickens live? In a henhouse, that's where they live. Are you with me so far?"

Newkirk gaped at Carter. "I don't even think I am on the same planet as you," he uttered.

Carter sighed again. "Where do you think the colored eggs come from?" he asked.

"You take eggs, boil them, and then dip them into a solution of vinegar and water with food coloring added until they are the color you desire," LeBeau guessed.

"Have you been taking the same electrocution lessons as Sam?" Newkirk asked.

"No," LeBeau replied. "But remember, it was supposed to be Baker and Sam in this scene. That was Sam's line."

"Fellas, do you want to hear the explanation or not?" Carter asked.

"Not really," Newkirk quipped. "But I have a feeling we will anyway. So where do the colored eggs come from?"

"From theGreat Plot Bunny," Carter replied.

"Huh?" Newkirk and LeBeau wondered.

"TheGreat Plot Bunny," Carter repeated. "Every Easter, the Great Plot Bunny delivers colored eggs to all the good little boys and girls."

"I never got any when I was growing up," LeBeau stated.

"I didn't either," Newkirk added. "I think you're balmy, Andrew."

"No, you two didn't get any because you are non-believers," Carter explained.

"So you're telling us that there is a secular bunny running around ever Easter, performing illegal acts of breaking and entering just to leave colored eggs," Newkirk asked.

"I knew you wouldn't understand," Carter mumbled. "You don't even want to hear the whole explanation before you trample over my beliefs."

Newkirk was silent for a moment. "Sorry, Andrew," he said. "I didn't mean to hurt your feelings."

Carter smiled. "Oh, you didn't," he said. "I just said that because I knew it would make you feel bad. But I do think you should hear the entire story before this chapter begins to drift away in a sea of irrelevancy."

LeBeau looked over at Newkirk. "Another member of the electrocution class," he commented.

Carter ignored the comment and continued his explanation. "As I said, the Great Plot Bunny leaves colored eggs for all the good little boys and girls that have faith in him," he said, emphasizing the last part in case Newkirk had another comment. "But that's not all he leaves. He also leaves nice little chocolates …"

"I'd be careful," Newkirk butted in. "Those might not be chocolates!"

Carter shot him a severe glance.

LeBeau pointed at Carter. "Wow, that was an excellent example of a severe glance, Andrew," he said. "You should do that more often."

Carter shot LeBeau a severe glance.

"No need going overboard, mate," Newkirk commented. "Just get on with your story."

Carter let out a sigh. "In addition to the eggs, he leaves little chocolates and other candies, such as jelly beans," he explained.

"What about those little marshmallow chickens?" Newkirk asked.

"Peeps," LeBeau corrected.

"Would you two quit interrupting?" Carter exclaimed loudly. "Now I don't want to hear another peep out of either of you."

Newkirk and LeBeau looked at each other. "I know we should let Andrew get on with his explanation," Newkirk said. "But I just have to say that that was probably the worst joke in this story so far."

"Oiu," LeBeau agreed. "We've really hit a new low."

Carter looked at his watch impatiently and began explaining again. "But before he can leave the colored eggs, where do you think the Great Plot Bunny gets those eggs from?" he asked.

Newkirk and LeBeau were silent.

"Naturally, you only talk when you are supposed to keep quiet," Carter complained. "I'll tell you where he gets them – from chickens. And as I told you earlier, chickens live in henhouses."

"I have a feeling there's more to this," Newkirk whispered to LeBeau.

"You still don't get it, do you?" Carter asked. "The Great Plot Bunny visits all the henhouses on the eve of Easter, gathering eggs to color and leave for the good little boys and girls. And when he takes those eggs, he always leaves a special treat in the henhouse."

"So why are you here?" Newkirk asked.

"I am here because I want to tell the Great Plot Bunny how thankful I am for his generosity," Carter replied.

"That and to get the treat he will leave in the henhouse," LeBeau added.

"Well … yeah," Carter agreed.

Newkirk pulled a small book out of his pocket and started leafing through it.

"What's that?" LeBeau asked.

"I lifted it from Kinch earlier," Newkirk replied. "I think he got it when he was traipsing around the author's mind earlier."

Newkirk held the book so that LeBeau could see the cover. "Peanuts," the Frenchman said. His eyes widened. "Peanuts! Hey, you don't think this is …"

"Right on the very first try, mate," Newkirk replied. "This book should tell us why Carter has turned into a bleedin' laying hen."

They leafed through the book, scanning for something relevant.

"Boy, that bald headed kid is stupid," LeBeau commented. "How many times does he have to fall on his behind before he realizes that the mean little girl is always going to pull the football away from him and not let him kick it?"

"So do you think the author meant to have Klink represent the bald headed boy in this story?" LeBeau asked.

Before Newkirk could answer, the door to the henhouse opened and Klink stuck his head in. "I just want you to know that I resent that," he said. "Not only because both of us are bald, but because of the seeming representation of me, as Kommandant, always falling for Colonel Hogan's schemes."

Klink was suddenly pushed from the doorway and Hochstetter entered the henhouse.

"What are you doing here Major?" Newkirk asked.

Hochstetter pointed to his sleeve. The letters 'PC' had replaced the swastika on the armband. "I am the political correctness police for this story," he replied.

"The what?" Klink asked.

"Political correctness police," Hochstetter repeated. "And I am here to inform you that the use of the term bald to describe someone with thinning hair is prohibited."

"And just what are we supposed to say?" Newkirk asked.

"The person is follically challenged," Hochstetter explained. "And failure to use the correct term will result in me throwing you all in the cooler."

"Major, you can't do that," Klink said.

"Klink!" Hochstetter bellowed. "Are you arguing with me?"

"Yes, actually," Klink replied. "You can't throw anyone in the cooler right now."

"Why not?" Hochstetter asked.

"It's full," Klink replied. "I've thrown a bunch of the fiction authors in the cooler so that they would finish their stories."

"What about solitary?" Hochstetter asked. "Can I throw someone in there?"

"No, I got a special case in there," Klink explained. "A pair of authors who need to get their confidence back."

"Bah!" Hochstetter screamed. He stopped and shook his head. "I hate it when this author can't think of anything else for me to say."

"Join the club," LeBeau said.

"Major Hochstetter, what would happen if I said chrome dome instead of bald?" Newkirk asked. "Would you shoot me?"

Hochstetter began laughing. "You're kidding," he said. "That would be a reward!"

"Fellas," Carter said, clearing his throat. "Can we get back to the story?"

"Oh, right," Klink said. "Wolfgang, what do you say we go call General Burkhalter and see if we can trick him into joining in on all this …" Klink looked around with a sour looking expression. "Fun."

"Ja, good idea," Hochstetter agreed.

As the two men walked out the door, Klink asked, "So what would be the politically correct term for a man of the General's stature? Dietetically challenged?"

Hochstetter chuckled. "No, actually he would just be known as a bad tempered fat man," he said.

The door closed and Newkirk and LeBeau turned their attention back to the book. "Now where were we?" Newkirk asked, hurriedly flipping the pages.

"Wait," LeBeau said. "What's this here? A little boy carrying a blanket and sitting in a field with … what are those, pumpkins?"

They hurriedly read the page and turned to the next. After a few pages, Newkirk slammed the book shut. "Just as I thought," he said.

"What?" Carter asked from he crate.

"Andrew, you are acting like a boy named Linus," Newkirk explained.

"A boy named Sinus?" Carter asked. "What kind of a name is Sinus?"

"Not Sinus, you twit," Newkirk admonished. "Linus. It says here that every Halloween, he goes to the pumpkin patch and waits for the Great Pumpkin to come with candy for all the good little boys and girls."

"Sounds familiar, doesn't it?" LeBeau asked.

"Yeah, so what?" Carter asked defiantly.

"It means that you don't have to waste your time with this nonsense," Newkirk replied.

"It's not nonsense to me," Carter replied defiantly.

'Look, Andrew, you don't have to keep being defiant," Newkirk observed. "We're just trying to save you the trouble of staying in the rec hall overnight

"Henhouse," Carter corrected.

"I have a feeling it will be a rec hall again tomorrow," Newkirk said.

"I see what you are trying to do," Carter said. "You are persecuting me because I have different beliefs than you. You're all chummy with me until I express a different belief than you and then you just want to …"

"Hold it right there!" LeBeau screamed. "All right, you idiot writer. Where are you?" He hurriedly looked around the room. "I know where you are heading with this, and I'm not going to let you do it."

"Hey, calm down, Louis," Newkirk said soothingly.

"Peter, there's no need for you to try to be soothing," LeBeau replied. "I'm not going to let this guy do this to us."

"Do what?" Carter asked.

"Just because it's Easter, he thinks that he can make Carter into a martyr," LeBeau fumed. "It's totally inappropriate, and I'm not going to let him do it!"

"Louis, let's just get this chapter over with and move on," Newkirk said.

"No, I will not let him get away with it!" LeBeau screamed.

The door to the henhouse opened and Colonel Hogan walked in. "What's all the screaming for?" he asked.

"Louis is angry at our idiot writer," Newkirk replied.

"Who isn't?" Hogan responded, looking around the room. "What are all these eggs doing on the floor?"

"I put them there, Colonel," Carter replied.

Hogan looked at Newkirk and LeBeau, who both shrugged. "Are you planning on hatching them yourself?" Hogan asked Carter.

"I'm not going to hatch them, sir," Carter replied.

"No, he's trying to catch a rabbit," Newkirk joked.

"A what?" Hogan asked.

"I'm waiting for the Great Plot Bunny," Carter said.

Hogan muttered something and then suddenly his eyes went wide. He clamped his mouth shut and looked around to make sure no one had heard him.

"Colonel, what is it?" Newkirk asked.

"He said goose grease," Carter said.

Hogan shook his head.

"Colonel, what's this about goose grease?" LeBeau asked. "We're in a henhouse – all you'll get here is chicken fat."

Hogan kept shaking his head.

"Why did you say goose grease, Colonel?" Carter asked.

A pained expression crossed Hogan's face as he said, "I didn't. I said good grief."