Didn’t Go Eggsactly According To Plan

, , , , , , , | Related | April 11, 2021

This happened back in the 1980s, when I was a young teen. My friend had told me of a great April Fool’s joke which involved soaking an egg in vinegar for about a day, to the point that the shell would go soft. Handling the egg, I was told, was really weird. As we always had boiled eggs for breakfast, I thought that would be a brilliant gag to play on Mum.

I shelled out for some vinegar — it didn’t seem right to waste Mum’s supply — and put it in a sealed box in my bedroom. The night before, I took it out, and my friend was absolutely right; it really did go squishy without cracking! So, I snuck it downstairs and put it with the eggs ready for the morning.

And what happened? Mum managed to avoid picking up that egg! In retrospegged, I should have made sure there were only enough eggs for breakfast and no spares, something which Mum did also say when I pointed out the egg she didn’t use.

But I really did want to do that gag, so I filed it away for future use, to maybe hatch this plot another day.

Several years later, I decided it was time to have another go. Whilst I could remember most of the details, what I couldn’t remember was the length of time required for soaking. As the Internet was not yet available, I had to go by memory. But as it transpired, my memory was not all it was cracked up to be. Instead of doing it for about a day, I soaked the egg for about three. 

When I came to take it out of the box, the shell had completely dissolved. The egg was held together by the membrane, and osmosis must have caused the egg to swell to the point of nearly bursting. No point in doing the joke now. But the egg looked so amazing, I had to show it!

You’d eggspect me to carry the egg down in the box to show my parents, but that would be far too sensible. Instead, I lifted it out of the box and placed it on the lid, and used it like a tray. And I did manage to carry it down the stairs and into the lounge without any trouble.

At this point, I’d like to introduce you to the lid. My parents always bought margarine in catering-sized plastic containers and always kept them as they were of good sturdy quality. The lids were also good quality and could withstand being pulled off the box repeatedly. This meant that they could flex. Also, as they were moulded plastic, they had the remnants of a small sprue, where the plastic was injected into the mould during manufacture. 

As I carried this makeshift tray and fragile load into the lounge, my grip must have changed slightly, as the lid flexed. This caused the egg to roll onto this oh-so-small but oh-so-significant sprue, where the egg promptly burst. And as to where the remnants of this hen grenade went? They flowed off the lid and straight down the armchair where my dad was sat!

I apologised profusely and helped dad clean up the mess I’d made. Fortunately, the cleaning was thorough enough, as there were no lingering odours.

Did I try this prank ever again? No way; I’d had un oeuf!

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