Dodo Eggs

Adulthood rule number 482.3 states, “When buying eggs at the grocery store be sure to open the carton’s lid and make sure none of the eggs are cracked.” 

It may seem strange that I should mention this but the other day I saw a ten-year-old boy leave his mother’s shopping cart to fetch eggs for her.  He dropped the carton, picked it back up, and raced over to his mother. 

Here are two stories.  One has been dropped and is no good.  The other is still in pristine condition.  Which is which?

Egg #1 – The winters in Dakota Territory can be harsh.  I’ve heard of families cramming into their refrigerator for survival when their furnace went out.  ( I’m kidding, sorta.)

On a frigid afternoon, Mama Teply asked me to take her car to the gas station for a fill up.  When I arrived, the cap on the gas tank would not twist off.  I worked it relentlessly and only managed to budge it several millimeters. 

The obvious conclusion was a frozen gas cap.  It didn’t matter that gasoline freezes at a ridiculous negative seventy.  With wind chills actually approaching that harsh number, anything was possible. 

I knew one thing for certain.  It was crazy to just stand beside my car with  Jack Frost doing a whole lot more than just nipping at my nose, ears, hands, liver, prostate…

I drove home.  Mama Teply gave me a skeptical look then sent me out with a hair dryer that I plugged into the electrical post for the block heater.  After running the hair dryer near the cap for a few minutes, I tried again.  The cap remained stubborn.

“Well,” Mama Teply began.  “Take it to Woston’s Auto Repair and ask John to help us out.”

With the gas needle slipping further through E, drove across town to Woston’s.  John was an old friend and wouldn’t have an issue taking a quick look at the problem. 

I pulled him outside and he popped the cap off with ease.  He offered me the freed cap.  “What was the problem?  Where you trying to turn it the wrong way?”

Egg #2- I never win anything.  I never, ever get to walk down the isle at faculty meetings and select from the fabulous selection of donated prizes.  When offered, I always get a ticket but it has become just a formality.  It’s a learned response like taking a donut when one is in arm’s reach.

I’ve decided that door prizes and other drawings are perks for other people to enjoy.  I no longer look as gift certificates make faces as they are presented to the two people sitting beside me. 

And yet, Mrs. Gramm has won a least three or four times.  I pondered this as she waddled up to the front and took her basket of office supplies this month. 

I bent toward Mrs. Vantiegum.  “She’s won so often the IRS is looking into her winnings and whether she needs to start paying taxes.” 

Vantiegum gave me the quick smile and nod that means, “Quiet you fool.  You’re not funny and I’m focusing all my cosmic energy into my number.”

I have come to believe there may be a genetic trait that allows us to win raffled prizes.  To test my theory, I approached Mrs. Gramm just before our next faculty meeting.

“Hello Mrs. Gramm.”  I began.  “Would you try something with me?  If I win the door prize, I’ll give it to you.  If you win, then you can give it to me.  Would you do this please?  It’s something of an experiment.”

She gave me the short “aren’t you sweet” smile.  “No, let’s just stick with the number we have.”

Sure enough, Mrs. Gramm’s number was the third one drawn and she strolled out with movie passes. 

So, in which story do you see cracks?   Chiefdodo will post the answer with the next Good Egg & Bad Egg submission.  Check Good & Bad Egg 4’s comments for its answer.

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