A Cracking Story

It seemed an age the last time we had eggs for breakfast. We had the urge to eat eggs a few weeks back but were unable to as there never seemed to be enough time in the mornings, even with every minute calculated to get ready and set of to uni, the 2 minutes teeth brushing to 4.5 seconds shoe lace tying, we could just not wake up that few extra minutes for the good ol’ andaa bread. So we had to make do with eating dinner in the morning and breakfast at night. At this time, eating this rare Bradford commodity seemed somewhat refreshing, but lacked timing as we really needed this refreshment in the morning, were we’d doze of in, I mean pay attention in lectures.

What we really needed was some sort of an incentive. So the next time we went shopping, we had an extra shopping list filled solely with omelette ingredients, and here we went searching for the eggs worthy of such a list.

Now having a stocked up with everything we needed, from milk to milk, and cereal to cereal, and of course our precious eggs, we set of home very carefully, taking extra precautions over those so bumpy roads and crazy speed traffic changing signals, we got home with all 6 BIG fresh farm eggs. No I must explain that this journey home was EXTREMELY difficult. You see, driving at slow speeds and never moving the car of in first gear, a rolled down window passing passersby with a carton of BIG fresh eggs… resisting was quite the mission. Good thing there was a third person to hold back temptations of hurling… nevermind.

So we got home all right, all eggs intact. Got up the lift (stairs were too risky, didn’t want to trip), and got into our apartment A-OK. Now loading the shopping into the fridges and cupboards, he who must not be named out of pure shame, lifted the eggs. He lifted the eggs to put in the top shelve of the fridge… nobody knows from this point what happened in the next few cherished moments because all we saw after what seemed like a lifetime of slow motion effect…