Robert Jeschonek is an award-winning, USA Today bestselling author whose action-packed, envelope-pushing fiction has made waves around the world. His stories have appeared in Clarkesworld, Weird Fiction Quarterly, Pulphouse Fiction Magazine, and many other publications. He has also written official Star Trek and Doctor Who fiction and comics tales for AHOY and DC Comics.

Eggs of the Dog That Bit You by Robert Jeschonek

Dogs that lay eggs? Squirrels possessed by demons? A talking unicorn on a violent quest in the Old West? These are just a few of the incredible creatures you'll meet in this collection of shocking stories. Every page will amaze you, bringing to life surprising beasts born in otherworldly realms, scientific labs, and the strangest places you've never imagined in space and time. From a maggot earning his wings to a giant warrior chicken fighting off the invasion of tomorrow to a sea munky trapped in the last body of water on Earth, you'll experience one unforgettable tale after another. This zoo of the magical and futuristic will surround you with critters and immerse you in the words of USA Today bestselling author Robert Jeschonek, a purveyor of visions that make your mind's eye open wider, your heart beat faster, and your dreams pulsate with powerful possibilities.

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CURATOR'S NOTE

Whenever I'm talking about skewed fiction and strange points of view, I have to bring in Robert Jeschonek. Even the cover of his collection, Eggs of the Dog That Bit You, is strange. And delightful. And makes me, at least, want to crack that book wide open. (Sorry. Couldn't resist here either.) Bob's work always seems to come from a place only he can access, a place I like to visit again and again. If this is your introduction to his work, buckle up. The rest of you…well, you know what you're getting into. (Kinda.) – Kristine Kathryn Rusch

 
 

BOOK PREVIEW

Excerpt

From a Story by Robert Jeschonek: "Eggs of the Dog That Bit You"

Every morning, I wake to the barking of the dogs in the coop. All at once, they take up the call, howling and yapping their glorious dawn chorus.

Aroooo! Arf arf arf! Yip yip yap! Aroooo!

Then they get back to what they do best, which is laying eggs. I only wish it was enough to keep the farm going. I only wish I was half the dog-egg farmer my daddy was.

I'm just glad he won't be alive to see Banker Bancroft repossess Dog's Ass Farm from his only daughter in a few weeks. At least that much is a mercy.

All up and down the length of the coop, the dogs squat over nests of straw and squeeze out one egg after another. The eggs have an amazing variety of different colors and markings, varying from breed to breed. When you've been dog-egg farming as long as I have, you learn to recognize which dogs lay which ones.

As I gather the day's first batch, I pat each pooch on the head, sometimes getting a lick in return, sometimes a nip. Today, the bulldogs are producing well, cranking out their olive-green eggs with black and brown stippling like military camouflage. My best poodle presents me with a clutch of bright purple eggs, each flecked with gold glitter. Then there are the German Shepherds with their black eggs streaked with beige and the Golden Retrievers with their fiery reds peppered with yellow polka dots.

Along with the pure-bred canines, my collection of mixed-breed mutts drops eggs of unpredictable color and design, a delightful assortment of daily surprises. Today alone, I find eggs with green and gold stripes, eggs with bright blue and orange swirls, and eggs with wild, almost psychedelic designs.

But the one that mystifies me most squeezes out of the bottom of a fluffy white Bichon Frise I call Cotton. This egg, unlike the simple white orbs that Cotton normally drops, has actual words scrawled in black on a white background.

As I read the impossible message, I'm so stunned that I nearly drop the egg. The words written on its shell are unlike any markings I've ever seen on any egg laid by a dog.

Let this egg hatch to save your farm.

I gaze at that message for a long time as the dogs pant and scratch and bay around me. Only one thing is certain: this isn't a trick. The coop is secure, and no one works here but me. I haven't been able to afford help in months.

Is it possible? Could there truly be some kind of miracle inside Cotton's egg that might keep the farm alive? If so, what do I have to lose by letting it hatch? The sale price of one Bichon Frise egg, that's what.

Perhaps it will be worth it.