| Egg Story Number 1 The egg has been standing upright on the kitchen counter for several months. It's now December, and it's been standing since the September equinox. There used to be three other eggs alongside it. Each egg has long since fallen over and would not stand up again. But this egg continues standing. Once toward the end of November, Chuck reported that it fell over. I hurried into the kitchen. Sure enough there was the egg, on its side. I tried to stand it up again. At first I couldn't. But with some perseverance, I succeeded in getting it to stand. And there it is. It's been standing ever since. I've gotten rather fond of this egg. Since its fall, I think of it as a survivor. Of what I'm not quite sure. I only know that during each fall and spring equinox, mystics and other non-scientific types believe that certain energies caused by planetary alignments enable eggs to stand on end. Scientists rightly scoff at this. But it appears to be true. Planetary alignments giving off energies. These are strange, nonsensical concepts. All the more nonsensical because science derides them. Yet the egg is standing. Something seems to be going on. Something that so far eludes conventional scientific explanation. I like that. It confirms my intuition that there are many such phenomena. Things existing perhaps forever beyond the reach of science to explain. Things perhaps like the universe itself. And the orderly organization of the universe. The fields of energy everywhere. Things like life. And intelligence. Which may also be parts of energy fields. Energy fields which may give rise to coded information. Coded information that produces eggs. Eggs that produce life. Life that has intelligence. So here stands my single valiant egg. Still standing, long after it should. Long past the mysterious planetary alignments of the equinox. Standing in defiance of any known laws of science. Standing, perhaps always, beyond scientific explanation altogether. I'm interested in how long my egg may stand. I suspect that if I don't take it down, it may stand indefinitely. I look at it in wonder. A purely geometric shape. An oval produced by nature in order to reproduce itself. And I see in this oval a reproach to the minds of men. Our minds, with the capacity to decipher so many mysteries of nature. Our minds which we then deceive ourselves into believing possess the capacity to decipher it all. December, 1997
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| Egg Story Number 2 I guess it was a good thing that we were there when the explosion occurred. Or else we might never have realized what happened. And we wouldn't have been around to clean up the mess, either. But Chuck and I were busy in the apartment when it happened. All of a sudden a tremendous bang seemed to come from the kitchen. It sounded as if something really large had crashed. We both dashed into the kitchen to find out what. Chuck was the first to notice. "It's the egg," he said. "The egg exploded." Naturally I didn't believe him. Whoever heard of anything so ridiculous? An egg is something you eat. Not something that explodes. But the egg was certainly missing from its place on the kitchen counter. And clumps of blue goo were everywhere. Blue goo was clinging to cabinets and walls and was all over the floor, too. And there was a horrible stench. "Hydrogen sulfide," Chuck said conclusively, as if that decided the matter. I didn't want to believe his explanation. But as I looked at the mess, I had to concede that it was very probably true. I must say that Chuck was unexpectedly wonderful about our explosion. He helped me clean up without chiding me once. Even though he could have. He'd never really wanted to have an egg standing on the kitchen counter for the past six months. I did. It was an experiment. It provided confirmation, in case any were needed, that energies from planetary alignments during an equinox really do allow eggs to stand on end. So I admired that egg. Every time I saw it, I was amazed all over again. A little egg like that, standing up because of mysterious planetary forces. I tried to explain this to Chuck. But he never really appreciated how amazing it was. Instead, he just considered the egg a nuisance. A nuisance? How could a little egg standing upright in the kitchen possibly be a nuisance? An egg hardly takes up any space to speak of. Not that we use the counter much anyway. Not that we use the kitchen much either. Neither of us cooks any more. Chuck doesn't cook now because he never did. He doesn't know how. And I don't cook now because I don't want to. I've already cooked more than enough so I tell Chuck I forgot what to do. And I probably have. The only time we use the counter now is when we unpack the food we order in. And the egg never got in the way. After a couple of months had passed and the egg was still standing, I just assumed that Chuck had gotten used to having an egg on the counter. I just assumed he didn't mind anymore. Especially since neither of us uses the counter anyway. I thought he might even have gotten fond of the egg. The way I had. But did he? No. Instead, he was always asking me when I intended to get rid of it. But why ever would I ever get rid of it? This was obviously no ordinary egg. This was an egg that could stand on a kitchen counter for months. Much longer than any of the other eggs had. I had begun to regard this egg as extremely special. I had begun to believe that it would stand there indefinitely. And then it exploded. There was a huge bang, we ran into the kitchen and there it was. Or rather there it wasn't. It had completely disappeared. Splattering bits of blue goo all over as it did. And giving off a horrible hydrogen sulfide stench. Chuck was quite nice about the mess. He didn't mind nearly as much as I expected him to. I figured he didn't mind because he was glad to be rid of the egg. But I wasn't. I felt sad. To this day the kitchen seems a trifle empty without it. And without its planetary forces. March, 1998 |