The shotgun blasts the pigeon apart and rime and pips go flying everywhere. The air reeks of citric acid.
'Not one of your best ideas, Doc,' says Borman, reloading the shotgun. They've been at this all morning. The garden outside the lab is strewn with yellow flesh and the zest of feathers. Borman lost count after sixty.
'How many of these things did you make?' asks Borman.
The Doc wipes juice from his brow. 'Only six. Seems they've gotten into the general population and started breeding.'
'Fantastic,' says Borman. 'So are they dangerous?'
'Only to people with citrus allergies.'
'Then why are we shooting all the ones on the grounds?'
'Because if they get off sight I think we may be in trouble.'
'You,' says Borman. 'You will be in trouble.'
The Doc shrugs.
'Why?' asks Borman.
'Why what?'
'Why crossbreed lemons and pigeons?'
The Doc looks perplexed. 'Why not?'
Borman sighs.
Paddy Dobson
2nd June 2022