Battle of the eggs

 Who are these people and why are they being so nice? 

 

It was a brutal competition, with lots of screaming, shoving and pushing. There may have been some scratching and punching as well. There are no memories about who garnered the most eggs; the hunt was not so much about speed—it was about who was most devious. 

Then Easter was gone, baskets were packed away for next year, and deviled eggs were supper. With no holiday to anticipate, a veil of tedium settled over our farm in a pre-summer heat. A day or two passed, and then?

In the middle of the night, something woke me, something like a POP!  I rolled over, catching just a hint of chocolate.  Then a new smell came in waves---foul, recognizable, nauseating.

It was the distinctive odor of rotten eggs.  Rolling out of bed and looking under it, I spotted a lone Easter basket with the remains of an exploded egg.  One of my three brothers had placed it there before I went to bed. (My bedroom was that clean...seriously...even under the bed...)

Opened the window…threw the Basket out…and heard the muffled giggles from my brothers’ rooms.  They were waiting for my own explosion. 

Well, they did not get it.  I tiptoed down the stairs and slept on the couch.  The rotten egg smell did not limit itself to my room; it traveled to their room as well.

Justice and revenge would wait for another day.  I was the soul of patience.

Those bastards....

This was originally published in 2019, again in 2021 and 2023. I know most of you have read this before. But I really loved the story and the memory. It was one of those things that is never forgotten.

Source etsy

Easter Eggs in all their glory

For hunting only

It was a brutal competition, with lots of screaming, shoving and pushing. There may have been some scratching and punching as well. There are no memories about who garnered the most eggs; the hunt was not so much about speed—it was about who was most devious. 

Then Easter was gone, baskets were packed away for next year, and deviled eggs were supper. With no holiday to anticipate, a veil of tedium settled over our farm in a pre-summer heat. A day or two passed, and then?

In the middle of the night, something woke me, something like a POP!  I rolled over, catching just a hint of chocolate.  Then a new smell came in waves---foul, recognizable, nauseating.

It was the distinctive odor of rotten eggs.  Rolling out of bed and looking under it, I spotted a lone Easter basket with the remains of an exploded egg.  One of my three brothers had placed it there before I went to bed. (My bedroom was that clean...seriously...even under the bed...)

Opened the window…threw the Basket out…and heard the muffled giggles from my brothers’ rooms.  They were waiting for my own explosion. 

Well, they did not get it.  I tiptoed down the stairs and slept on the couch.  The rotten egg smell did not limit itself to my room; it traveled to their room as well.

Justice and revenge would wait for another day.  I was the soul of patience.

Those bastards....

This was originally published in 2019, again in 2021 and 2023. I know most of you have read this before. But I really loved the story and the memory.

Source etsy

After the egg hunt is over

 

 

This event was before my brothers/bastards found my Superman comics collection , back before I learned just how low and evil my brothers were, and would become.

It was Easter, maybe 1960 or 1959.  Church was over.  Ham dinner was eaten and done. It was time for the egg hunt.  Hard boiled and dyed eggs had been hidden in our vast lawn after we all had in bed asleep.  It was never questioned by whom.

Source

It was a brutal competition, with lots of screaming, shoving and pushing. There may have been some scratching and punching as well. There are no memories about who garnered the most eggs; the hunt was not so much about speed—it was about who was most devious and/or violent. 

Then Easter was gone, baskets were packed away for next year, and deviled eggs were supper. With no holiday to anticipate, a veil of tedium settled over our farm in a pre-summer heat.

In the middle of the night, something woke me, something like a POP!  I rolled over, catching just a hint of chocolate.  Then a new smell came in waves---foul, recognizable, nauseating.

It was the distinctive odor of rotten eggs.  Rolling out of bed and looking under it, I spotted a lone Easter basket with the remains of an exploded egg.  One of my three brothers had placed it there before I went to bed. (My bedroom was that clean...seriously...even under the bed...)

Opened the window…threw the Basket out…and heard the muffled giggles from my brothers’ rooms.  They were waiting for my own explosion. 

Well, they did not get it.  I tiptoed down the stairs and slept on the couch.  The rotten egg smell did not limit itself to my room; it traveled to their room as well.

Justice and revenge would wait for another day.  I was the soul of patience.

Those bastards....


This was posted in 2020, rewritten and here it is now. 

My brothers (whom I love dearly now) were miserable bastards in my youth. They were harshly mean to me most of the time. Revenge would be mine, someday. 

Source etsy

Hop on, Easter Bunny. Hop on.

 

Source etsy

This event was before the Superman Travesty, back before I knew just how low and evil my brothers were, and would become.

It was Easter, maybe 1960 or 1959.  Church was over.  Ham dinner was eaten and done. It was time for the egg hunt.  Hard boiled and dyed eggs had been hidden in our vast lawn after we all had fallen asleep.  It was never questioned by whom.

Source

It was a brutal competition, with lots of screaming, shoving and pushing. There may have been some scratching and punching as well. There are no memories about who garnered the most eggs; the hunt was not so much about speed—it was about who was most devious and/or violent. 

Then Easter was gone, baskets were packed away for next year, and deviled eggs were supper. With no holiday to anticipate, a veil of tedium settled over our farm in a pre-summer heat.

In the middle of the night, something woke me, something like a POP!  I rolled over, catching just a hint of chocolate.  Then a new smell came in waves---foul, recognizable, nauseating.

It was the distinctive odor of rotten eggs.  Rolling out of bed and looking under it, I spotted a lone Easter basket with the remains of an exploded egg.  One of my three brothers had placed it there before I went to bed. (My bedroom was that clean...seriously...even under the bed...)

Opened the window…threw the Basket out…and heard the muffled giggles from my brothers’ rooms.  They were waiting for my own explosion. 

Well, they did not get it.  I tiptoed down the stairs and slept on the couch.  The rotten egg smell did not limit itself to my room; it traveled to their room as well.

Justice and revenge would wait for another day.  I was the soul of patience.

Those bastards....


This is a post from 2015, rewritten and re-posted 2019 and 2020. Rewritten and here it is now. 

My brothers (whom I love dearly now) were miserable bastards in my youth. They were mean to me most of the time. Revenge will be mine. 

...As long as we have no place to go, let it snow, let it snow...

Today in Tomsville Explosion: Bring Graham crackers and chocolate!

Source

After an explosion at Tomsville Marshmallow Factory, the town was blanketed in white melted marshmallow. Mr. Miller gazed out the window, "Well, that's not something you see everyday..."

The surprise explosion had spread aromatic scent of vanilla over the marshmallow-covered town.  Even the steeple  of the nearby church was coated with the sticky white stuff.  Several red cardinals were glued there, their pitiful songs heard about town.

Finally, an elfin boy named Timmy climbed up into the steep interior and then was lowered by rope to free the poor birds.  Oddly enough, the cardinals were able to fly away to nearby trees.

From the heights, Timmy watched faraway children dashing with toboggans in hand to slide down  “Killer Hill”.  He giggled as each child became mired in the marshmallow ‘snow’, sinking rapidly into the white gloppy goo.

Source

P. S.  Kudos to Delores who delightfully selected 6 words AND a sentence prompt to be used as the blogger desires, to break into another genre, or take a break for current WIP.  The bold underlined words were for the week of December 4, 2013.

Delores started "Wednesday Words" several years back.  After growing tired of incessant battles with her computer, she handed the baton off to other bloggers. This month's words are the gift of Elephant's Child. Find this week's words there and either post your take in the comment section OR post at your site, being sure to let us know where you are and what you have written.  WE WANT TO FIND YOU!

Starting in August will be hannahbananface who will provide words.  Thanks, Hannah!

 We love you, Delores!

Marshmallow Dilemma, part 2

The situation was dire, very very dire.  The marshmallow coated the small town was showing just how nasty marshmallow truly is.

At first the population tried to dig their way out.  The marshmallow stretched and rebounded, white rubber bands.  Then some young kid suggested using fire to toast their way out.  A good idea for a child, but marshmallow continued to burn past the yummy stage, and the town was barely saved from a raging wildfire by local firemen.

Source

The rain did not solve the problems either. 

The top layers of the marshmallow became leathery, which seemed a “hurrah” moment.  Unfortunately, only children were able to walk across the top.

What about getting food to each home?  Children were dispatched pulling sleds across the tough layers, carrying basics to place on porches.   Boxes were appreciated by everyone, even cranky Old Man Hinkle who lived alone.

The military was called in, with their scientists who finally discovered that liquid nitrogen would freeze the marshmallow solid and could be chipped away.  

Source: an interesting site

All residents were ordered to stay inside their houses, and cuddle close to the fireplace, with a crackling fire burning high.  The helicopters flew around and over the town repeating this message many times.

All townspeople stepped of onto the solidly frozen marshmallow and began chipping away at it with every sharp tool. 

This is a great site for experiments.

The military succeeded in clearing out the main thoroughfare and counting the citizens.  All were accounted for, except for Old Man Hinkle. 

Small, elvin Timmy climbed up the steeple to see if Hinkle could be seen anywhere.  The only evidence of Hinkle was some ski trails across the leathery top.  Old Man Hinkle was a wizened scrawny guy; the leathery marshmallow top allowed him to escape the marshmallow-cursed town.

A letter had been left behind on the kitchen table:  ”I’m outta here…Gone to ‘Vegas…”


P.S.  I neglected to back-link the original story which inspired this follow up story:

Go to:  Marshmallow is not just for cocoa  This may clear up any confusion about 'what the heck?'

Marshmallow is not just for hot cocoa.

Source: Who started the first marshmallow fight?

The yard bore a striking resemblance to pure white snow to/in the aftermath of  of an/the explosion in the/a marshmallow factory.

The surprise explosion had spread an aromatic scent of vanilla over the marshmallow-covered town.  Even the steeple  of the nearby church was coated with the sticky white stuff.  Several red cardinals were glued there, their pitiful songs heard about town.

Finally, an elfin boy named Timmy climbed up into the steep interior and then was lowered by rope to free the poor birds.  Oddly enough, the cardinals were able to fly away to nearby trees.

From the heights, Timmy watched faraway children dashing with toboggans in hand to slide down  “Killer Hill”.  He guffawed as each child became mired in the marshmallow ‘snow’, sinking rapidly into the white gloppy goo.

Source

P. S.  Kudos to Delores at Under the Porch Light who delightfully selects 6 words AND a sentence prompt to be used as the blogger desires.  Access her sight by clicking on the peaceful stream image in the right sidebar.  There you will find some exciting and excellent takes on Delores' offerings.  Well done, Delores!