Unicorn Eggs

“Have you ordered my unicorn yet, Mummy?” Pixie planted both hands firmly on her hips and regarded her mother with all the sternness her six – soon to be seven – year old self could muster.

Julia Jenkins regarded her daughter warily. She knew for a fact that unicorns were in short supply of at the moment: after a recent Instagram snap of Kim Kardashian’s children with a whole string of rainbow horned creatures, the world had decided that nothing else would do as the ‘must have’ present. “I’m going to look on Amazon later today,” she lied.

“Make sure you do, Mummy –“ Pixie was relentless – “because  Jewel had one for her birthday, so it’s not fair if I don’t get one too.”

*

There were definitely no unicorns on Amazon. ToysRUs said they were sorry, but they’d stopped stocking live animals ever since the unfortunate incident with the crocodile and the ostrich; and Walmart had a waiting list three years long of people waiting for one of the magical creatures.

Julia tapped her fingernails on her phone keyboard, busily trying to google ‘unicorns for sale’. With only twenty-four hours until the big day, she was beginning to feel desperate. Perhaps that was why she threw caution to the wind and clicked on a pop-up ad that read simply, ‘In a hurry? We have the perfect present for your child – no tax, no refunds, no questions.’ Hoping that this would be a less fraught experience than the previous year’s purchase of the Johnny Depp clone, she dialled the given number and waited for a response.

*

The man who rang her doorbell an hour later looked decidedly suspicious: not only was he wearing a most disreputable overcoat which looked as if it were made from illegal dodo feathers, but he also sported dark glasses and a large woollen muffler that covered half his face. It was almost, she thought idly, as if he didn’t want to be recognised.

Still, beggars couldn’t be choosers. This man had promised her a unicorn for Pixie’s birthday, and she was willing to pay whatever it cost to make her younger daughter happy – it would be so much cheaper than another year of child therapy.

“Miss Jenkins?” The stranger looked about him furtively before thrusting a cardboard box into her hands. Presumably it was a collar of some sort. “That’ll be five hundred,” she heard him say next.

Fumbling in her purse for her American Express card, she was suddenly aware of the man’s fingers closing over her own. “I’d prefer cash, if you don’t mind,” he told her.

Quickly, she peeled off the requisite notes, glancing about to make sure none of the neighbours was watching. She placed the money in his outstretched hand and he turned to go.

“Aren’t you forgetting something?” she cried, aware that there was no sign of a rainbow mane or glittery hooves. “Where’s my unicorn?”

“In the box, lady.” He was clearly anxious to be off.

“In the box?” she repeated, stupefied.

“It’s a unicorn egg, ain’t it?” He seemed surprised that she had to ask. “Just keep it warm for a day or two, and it should hatch any time.”

She was going to ask him whether the baby creature would need formula milk or any other special requirements; but he was already gone.

*

The next morning, Pixie pouted when she saw the gaily wrapped box.

“I don’t want a present! I want a unicorn!” she shrieked, batting the box out of her mother’s hand.

“It is a unicorn,” Julia said quickly. “It just hasn’t hatched yet.”

Pixie gave her a stony stare. “Unicorns don’t lay eggs,” she said dismissively. “I thought everyone knew that.”

Julia felt a sudden stab of anger at her daughter’s know-it-all attitude – along with a sense of guilt for not having paid attention in school science lessons over twenty years ago.

*

Pixie was still sulking when her party started hours later. “I promised everyone unicorn rides!” she wailed, throwing a mutinous look at Jewel who was smugly combing her own unicorn’s mane. Even the arrival of the entertainer – a tightrope walking dwarf who juggled with flame throwers and chainsaws – didn’t cheer her up; and when her mother wheeled out the birthday cake – a scale model of the Statue of Liberty, decorated in pale pink frosting – Pixie refused to share it with anyone else. Julia felt relieved when bedtime came and she could finally send the little brat to her room.

*

The next morning, Pixie’s breakfast tantrum was just revving up to a record breaking 16 decibels when Julia heard a tiny tapping sound coming from the airing cupboard. She’d forgotten all about the unicorn egg that was wrapped up in a goose feather duvet, keeping warm.

“Darling!” she cried in excitement, removing Pixie’s spoon from her sister’s ear and dragging both girls up the stairs. “The egg’s hatching! We’re going to see a baby unicorn!”

The sisters cast pitying looks at their mother.

“Mummy, we told you yesterday,” Jewel began; then stopped as their mother flung open the airing cupboard door to reveal a four-legged creature sitting on one of the shelves, wearing a bemused expression.

“Where’s its horn?” Pixie demanded. “And why isn’t it as furry as Jewel’s unicorn?”

“It probably grows its horn later,” Julia replied distractedly. “It’s only a baby, Pixie.”

“A baby what?” Jewel asked. “It’s nothing like my unicorn.”

The creature unfolded two large wings and all three Jenkins stared.

“Is it a winged unicorn, Mummy? Or will the wings drip off and a horn grow in its place?”

“I’m not sure,” said Julia slowly as she reached into the airing cupboard and untangled the birthday present from one of her best towels.

*

The creature was definitely not a unicorn. That much was obvious, even to Julia: for one thing, it seemed to be covered in scales rather than hair; and for another, it had distinctly carnivore-like urges, ignoring the grass in the unicorn paddock but instead eyeing up Jewel’s cage of talking mice. What was more, it was growing at an alarming rate: the cardboard box that had housed the egg was no longer big enough for the creature to use as a bed; and by the end of the week, it was scarcely large enough to cover one clawed foot.

Despite all this, Pixie seemed strangely attached to her new pet. She had christened him ‘Mungo’ and he slept at the end of her bed – or at least, he did until his weight grew too much for it and Julia was wakened in the night by the hysterical shrieks of a little girl whose bed had just fallen through the floor and into the kitchen beneath.

From that point on, Mungo was banished to the garden and chained up at night, well away from Jewel’s unicorn, Princess.

*

The Jenkins family might have continued in ignorant bliss had it not been for the TV documentary a few weeks later about the growing trade in illegal dragons’ eggs. Luckily, the girls were outside playing with Mungo and Princess at the time, so they were unable to comment on their mother’s lack of judgement in buying Pixie’s present off a black marketeer. Julia debated on whether or not to call them in, then took a pen instead and jotted down some of the most salient points raised by the presenter. There was no point, she decided, on informing the authorities: Mungo was one of the family now and Pixie loved him. But it was certainly helpful to get some tips from the show’s dragon expert on diet and exercise.

“Girls!” she called as she made her way outside ten minutes later, “I have some really exciting news!”

Jewel and Pixie regarded her with interest.

“Mungo,” Julia said importantly, “isn’t a unicorn: he’s a dragon!”

“Oh, we knew that!” Pixie scoffed. “He’s been breathing fire for the last couple of days!”

Julia retreated prudently behind a garden bench.

“We were just discussing what we should start feeding him,” Pixie continued in a casual manner, “now that he’s eaten all of the talking mice.”

Julia felt faint. “He’s eaten the mice?” she repeated in a strangled voice.

“Don’t worry, Mummy,” Jewel hastened to reassure her. “We’ve only given him one a day – just in case they disagreed with him. But so far, he seems fine.”

*

In the end, it was decided that Mungo would be fed a diet of raw steak – six times a day. “Although I’m sure he’d like a sheep or a cow from time to time, Mummy – if you could get hold of one,” Pixie said thoughtfully. “I think he’d like to tear it apart with his claws and rip the guts out.”

Julia shuddered and added another packet of lentils to the shopping list.

*

She soon discovered that Mungo was a useful addition to the household, though. Take barbecue season – he could char a whole rack of meat in minutes and they didn’t have to worry about burning coals. He was also a much more energy efficient way of heating the swimming pool: one blast of Mungo’s fiery breath and the water was like a sauna.

However, owning a dragon was not without problems. Once Jewel started riding Princess to school, Pixie was adamant that she wanted to travel on Mungo.

“But everyone will think I’m so cool if I swoop into the playground on a dragon’s back,” she argued, ignoring the dagger looks her sister was giving her.

In the end, Julia compromised by saying that nobody was taking her pet to school. The girls were so disgusted by this that they stopped talking to her for a week. It was wonderful.

*

Pixie had owned Mungo for seven weeks when the disaster happened. Julia, who had been having a quiet lie down with a ‘bottle of Mummy’s special medicine’, was awakened from her blissful dreams with an almighty shrieking from the garden.

“What on earth’s the matter?” she called, rushing out to her precious angels.

Jewel looked distraught. “Mungo’s eaten Princess!” she wailed.

“Pixie!” Julia said in horror. “Is this true?”

Pixie looked mutinous. “It wasn’t my fault,” she growled – “or Mungo’s. Jewel deliberately left Princess in front of him – how was he supposed to know it wasn’t his dinner?”

“Her dragon’s eaten my unicorn!” Jewel sounded suitably outraged; but then her next words gave her away. “So it’s only fair if I have her dragon – to make up for Princess.”

“You can’t have Mungo!” Pixie snapped back. “He’s much better than your silly old unicorn was, and you know it!”

“Girls!” Julia tried to sound reasonable. “Why don’t you just share the dragon?” she suggested; but they shook their heads.

“She’s not having my dragon!”

“Her pet ate my pet!”

After a while, Julia left them to it and crept away. With any luck, she thought grimly, the dragon would eat at least one of them – and if she was really lucky, he might just swallow them both.