The café was busy, which meant it was even harder than usual to find a path between the tables and chairs. It was impossible to get more than a few steps away from someone else. In these cramped quarters, taking up more than his fair share of room on a larger table due to having arrived early, an odd fellow of the mythological persuasion sat. He was a cockatrice, hunched over some books and an abacus, and made it a point to not notice anyone unless they came too close to stepping on his snaky tail.

Facing away from him, back to back, was another mythological visitor: a handsome, pale silver unicorn with a magnificently spiraled horn. Having long ago finished the soup and salad special, he sat playing with one item that had come with the meal which he didn't wish to eat: a hard-boiled egg.

The unicorn stared intently at it, lowering his fiercely fetching face sideways as he propped the egg up on its end. He let it go, and frowned as the egg toppled, wobbled and fell. He began his experiment again.

Watching this several times, a nearby fox stopped fussing with the napkins she was trying to attach to her three kits, and asked "What in the name of the four seasons are you doing?" The young ones were quiet for once because they were staring, like their mother, at the strange show; not because they hadn't seen a unicorn before, but because they hadn't seen one trying to balance an egg.

"It's an Equinox today," said the unicorn. He sat up and smiled at the kits. "You knew that, didn't you? You look very clever." He leaned back over the table and resumed his experiment. "It's supposedly possible to balance an egg on its end on either of the two Equinoxes of the year."

Two of the kits (who were fortunate enough to get hard boiled eggs with their meals) began attempting this at once, but with no more success. The third one said thoughtfully "I know a better answer to a riddle now. If a rooster laid an egg while he was sitting on top of a barn, and it was the Equinox, which side of the roof would the egg roll down?" He patted the table. "Neither! It would balance!"

The cockatrice glanced over his shoulder with an unfriendly look. He was wearing thick glasses, which prevented any ill effects, but his expression was decidedly unfriendly.

"Roosters can't lay eggs," the kit in the middle said.

The cockatrice's comb turned redder.

"Anyway, I don't believe eggs can stand up or balance on ANY day." The middle kit picked up his egg, holding it aloft. "That egg would go rolling down the roof and hit the ground. Splat!" He slammed the egg against the table-as it happened, right against the bigger end of the eggshell. It stood straight up on the slightly flattened and crushed end.

This was too much for the cockatrice. He left in a huff, muttering to himself. "Intolerable! Completely offensive and obnoxious!" His tail rattled and he shook his fist at the general direction of the management and disappeared.