Eggs and mini fans
2 nights ago my friend squeezed an egg, positive a squeezed egg never cracks. In spite of what he claims is scientific proof that we uncovered an act of God, his squeezing pushed the egg beyond it's unfertilized bird limits and it exploded. Onto our other friend. While us and around 20 other coffee shop frequenters soaked in the raw hilarity of uncooked yolk splashed on the face of another poor, seething, human being, I was thinking about the endless poetic possibilities I was faced with. Ok fine, I was laughing like that loud and annoying American tourist you've encountered if you have ever been on holiday. Now, 40 some hours later though I am actually going through the ways one could look at the unsmashable egg being smashed debacle if one were a cynic trying to find Mayan 2012 apocalyptic symbols in almost all of life's stranger moments.
When you are just sitting there smiling and suddenly your boyfriend smashes the "I cheated" egg on you, or your parents the "we're divorced" egg, or your teacher the "you're too stupid to be somebody" egg, you're left with goo on your face and shirt, with 20 odd strangers who you never saw as threats laughing at you. Your friends, even if they are the egg smashers in question might still be able to wok in a chortle or two at your now sticky yellow face. The awkward look on your face probably says "please stop laughing" as loud as it says "so what the fuck am I going to do now?"
You weren't trying to smash an egg. You were just there for the ride. But now the yolk is your yoke to carry, the stickiness your mess to clean. The soundtrack of laughter might spur you or kill you, it's really up to you. So you go home, you find a sink, you wipe your face and switch from awkward to happy to try and convince yourself as much as anyone thatthese setbacks mean little. You put aside shame and belittle self loathing. One day an egg will crack and you won't even care enough to try and get out of the way. The product of an egg smashing system, as you were egged through life like a house on Halloween you slowly started to realise that it's easier to roll over and let the egg dry off because it's only so long before another mean rich guy is flinging his 20 cent almost farm animal at you, and you'll just be wet again. Alone again. Cos the walk to the sink is the longest walk ever.
Then again, maybe it was just a coincidence the egg broke.
When you are just sitting there smiling and suddenly your boyfriend smashes the "I cheated" egg on you, or your parents the "we're divorced" egg, or your teacher the "you're too stupid to be somebody" egg, you're left with goo on your face and shirt, with 20 odd strangers who you never saw as threats laughing at you. Your friends, even if they are the egg smashers in question might still be able to wok in a chortle or two at your now sticky yellow face. The awkward look on your face probably says "please stop laughing" as loud as it says "so what the fuck am I going to do now?"
You weren't trying to smash an egg. You were just there for the ride. But now the yolk is your yoke to carry, the stickiness your mess to clean. The soundtrack of laughter might spur you or kill you, it's really up to you. So you go home, you find a sink, you wipe your face and switch from awkward to happy to try and convince yourself as much as anyone thatthese setbacks mean little. You put aside shame and belittle self loathing. One day an egg will crack and you won't even care enough to try and get out of the way. The product of an egg smashing system, as you were egged through life like a house on Halloween you slowly started to realise that it's easier to roll over and let the egg dry off because it's only so long before another mean rich guy is flinging his 20 cent almost farm animal at you, and you'll just be wet again. Alone again. Cos the walk to the sink is the longest walk ever.
Then again, maybe it was just a coincidence the egg broke.