I’ve been called many, many things in my day: homely, subterranean, physically inept, so on and so forth. One thing I’ve never been called, however, is a good cook. But that doesn’t stop me from cracking a couple eggs and having a terribly seasoned breakfast sandwich on a hungover Sunday.
I was doing just that the other day when I realized a horrifying fact about myself: I think I’m becoming my dad.
Take a look for yourself…
That’s right. I’ve been putting my cracked eggshells back into the carton.
I tweeted this out, as one does, to show my 5.4 million followers my new personal discovery. Unfortunately, this was met with both curiosity and aversion.
As such, I would like to take this opportunity to defend myself. To all you heathens who throw your eggs in the trash one at a time, I ask you to consider this:
If your mother, and father, and brother, and sister, and other brother, and other sister, and other brother, and your adopted sister, and your cousin you’re really close with, and your cousin who you’re not particularly close with, and your weird uncle alllllllllll died within a week of each other, what would you want to happen with their bodies (the parts that weren’t eaten, of course)?
Would you want your brother’s skeleton tossed into a wonderfully scented Glad bag and discarded in a back alley trash can ALONE?
Would you want your cousin’s remains poked and prodded while a local man sources through the garbage for aluminum cans ALONE?
Would you, someone who values family and love, want your mother’s remnants crammed into the back of a garbage truck while she is ALL ALONE?
Of course you wouldn’t.
You would want them all to be neatly and carefully tucked away in a Magic School Bus-like contraption where they can be buried in a nearby landfill TOGETHER. As a FAMILY.
So next time you carelessly toss those eggshells in the trash, I beg that you take one minute and think about your family.
RobDark 