16 November 2009

A crack up at the egg aisle

Some might come across a senseless scene of yolky devastation such as this, shake their heads and think, “Tsk, such a shame.”

Not me though. I think: How touching is that?

That a group of regular eggs, so much like the ones you had for breakfast – these eggs that could have ended up in a happy omelet with some cheese and ham, or flown across an autumn picnic in the trembling mouth of a spoon during the Egg and Spoon race – these fairly healthy looking eggs gave their lives for something larger than themselves. They gave their lives so that we may know that it’s Christmas time.

Obvious Christmas tree formation

Or perhaps they were staging a protest against the ugly holiday spangles that hung like Goth extensions in the windows at Sainsbury’s. It’s still a bit early for tinsel, in my opinion.

I mean, it’s hard to say. Who knows what lies in the hearts of eggs? Besides unfertilized chicken fetuses?


Anonymous said...

How festive! Who knew eggs had such eerie powers of, uh..."holiday alerting"?! :P

Anonymous said...

This is very definitely good for you, while meanwhilely Mrs S. has been cashiered, so that I can enjoy myself learning the geetar and write a novel. The relief is entirely gorgeous.


Friday said...

I've been wondering about you, Peter. I'm very glad you're writing a novel. I do miss the Missus, mind you. :)