Egg story

 

I still remember the first and last time my breakfast spoke to me. I started the day just like any other, my alarm clock blaring as a heraldic butler busting down my door and commanding me: "My good sir, it is time to get up, you can't be a lazy waste of space all day." I rolled out of my orange cloth blanket directly onto the floor with a loud *CRUNCH*. With a mouth full of dirty socks I mumbled under my breath a soliloquy of swearing that would have made my late sailor father beam with pride. I lumbered to my feet and imagined smashing the clock with a massive hammer, but for now I would have to settle on lightly pressing the off switch.

Swaying into the bathroom with the grace of a drunken three legged ox I quickly refreshed my mouth and body with a minty toothbrush and a not-so-minty shower. I looked over my outfits for the day, dress shirts, slacks, jeans, t-shirts, hoodies, gowns and a menagerie of professional to semi-professional costumes; So I chose the rattiest old college hoodie and pajama pants I was wearing the last three nights in a row, and yes ladies, I'm still single.

I finally reached both the kitchen and the good part of my story; A simple beige white colonial affair straight outta the days of the Andy Griffith show. I would love to tell you that I prepared a lovely brunch of french toast, bacon, eggs, and orange juice so sublime that Gordon Ramsey would be forced to tearheartedly admit he was nothing more than a lying hack. But my depressed ass only had the energy to pour some liquid egg product into a pan and scramble it. Deciding against dirtying both the pan and a plate I elected to sit with just the pan and a fork on my couch. I could smell the waxy processed air from the eggs wafting into my nostrils and would you be shocked to hear that that didn't immediately make my mouth water? I scooped some eggs in my mouth with a sigh when I heard an echoing quiet voice from my mouth. 

"Ah agony, misery, the torture of such fleeting lives! Hail Jove whyds't thou allow me to exist if only to strike me down as Porphyrion!"

Time stood still as my brain slowly started to catch up on what was going on.

"Umm... hello whose there?"

The eggs on my plate thus spake

"Fie oh cruel behemoth, thoust has breathed life into us as God breathed life into the clay, and as Adam thus forsake God why shouldst we exist without defiance of you?"

To be honest I just stared at the soggy yellow mush on the plate.

"Ummm" I swallowed hard.

"AAAAAHHH oh damnable tortures!" 

"Oh god I'm sorry I didn't think to... wait... just? Ok what's going on?"

The eggs looked at me indignantly... don't ask me how I could tell I just could.

"Are thou as daft as the clay you were born from? With a face as cruel as Hephaestus?"

Color rose to my cheeks.

"Hey that's... that's not very nice."

"We have no need for niceties; you chose to birth us, so why do you dare cast judgement upon us you vile cur!"

Now I had never been called a cur before, and to speak frankly I still don't know what that means. But I had had enough, I grabbed the plate against the protestations of the eggs and hurtled them out the window. where they flew into the street, sunny side up.