“The truth has to come out sometime. My suspicion was right. What had worked its way out of my Easter egg there on my window still was not a bird. It wasn’t a lizard and it wasn’t a snake.”
“That can’t be, I though. Easter eggs don’t crackle, and Easter eggs don’t speak. Easter eggs are stone-dead, because they’re boiled. Perhaps the egg wasn’t boiled after all? For a couple of weeks, it had been lying in the hot April sun that shone through the window.”
“Father took the egg offered to him. It wasn’t a very good Easter egg, being a tiny bit smeary, but to father it was the most beautiful gift in the world.”