I just wrote a short story from the point of view of an egg

Yes, an egg. A 300-word short story from an egg’s point of view. Not a chicken, not a chick trying to hatch from an egg. An egg. How lame is that?

And yet, that story has been growing in my brain for the last few days, and I just had to write it.

Are you going to share it with us?


Yeah, since I doubt there’s a huge market in egg short shorts, I don’t mind giving copyright to the Chicago Reader.


OK, so I’m sitting there, freezing my ass off, no clue where I’m at. It’s pitch black in there. And then I’m feeling around and realize, hey, I don’t have an ass. What the hell? And I don’t have hands either. Holy shit, now I’m really scared. I realize I’m sitting in this cup thing, it’s sort of cupping my not-ass, you know? Damn, if only I could see, I says. Wouldn’t you know it, as soon as I say that, bam! there’s so much light I’m freakin’ blind. I mean, damn, what was that, like a 100-watt or something? Before I can get my bearings, this thing grabs me. It’s like this claw from hell or something. But it’s warm, so I think, “Well, it can’t be all that bad.”

I’m carried to a new location. At least it’s not as cold here, I think. Maybe now that my brain’s not so frozen I’ll figure out what’s wrong. And then–and then, oh the agony. The pain. It hurts just thinking about it. The warm claw-thing picks me up again and slams me back down. Hard! It hurt so bad. “Why? Why must you do this to me?” I shriek. And let me tell you, I’m not the shrieking type.

My insides were leaking out. “Who would do such a thing?” I rave in anguish. Alas, no one was listening that day. And to make matters worse, the claw thing takes my insides and pours them all over a sheet of hot metal. I’m burning and sizzling and I can’t get away and then…the claw grabs…something—by this time the light is fading and can’t see what it is, but it looked like a flat sheet of metal—and scrambles my insides. It was the worst sort of cruelty. My last thought before my life faded away was that I was better off with my head up that chicken’s ass.

I sure hope it’s funny. I need a good yolk. :wink:

Oh. Huh. That was suppose to be before DeadlyAccurate posted the story. :smack:

Well, that was funny at least, Skip. :slight_smile:

Hehe, I got a kick out of it.

Thanks, clayton_e.

Your story did get a chuckle, DeadlyAccurate, but I have to admit that you using “Scrambled” as a title really amused me the most. For some reason, that cracked my stuff up.


It reminds me of a story I thought about writing about elastic bands (no, I’m not joking). I started (don’t ask me why, I couldn’t possibly tell you) wondering whether an elastic band would be happier (look, just bear with me on this, OK?! :)) when stretched or relaxed. It would be along the lines of DeadlyAccurate’s funny story above. An elastic band is taken from a big pile of elastic bands and wrapped round something. I just never got around to deciding whether it would like it or not!

(Reading this back it makes me seem utterly insane, but I’m going to put it out there to my fellow Dopers, and trust you all not to send me away!)


Thanks, Skip and Nerrie!

Go ahead and write it, Nerrie. I’m interested in knowing the truth. You owe it to all those hard working elastic bands out there.

I’m disappointed.

I mean, it’s a story about an egg, but no one gets laid.



Darn it. That was supposed to be a :wink: smiley.

Just popping in DeadlyAccurate and you’ve inspired me! Give me a day or two (is that OK?) and I’ll see what I can come up with. Yes, I know what you’re thinking, a day or two for 300 words?! Well, my mind works slow, and my fingers even slower!


Ooh, Ooh! Would you mind if I shared your story with my class? They’ll get a kick out of it!!

Really? Yeah! I’m honored!

Oh, and Nerrie, I’m going to bug you on Monday for your story.

Well, here it is, my first story in, oh, twenty years! Please be kind!

Stretched (in the wake of Scrambled!)

I’m lying in the warm and the dark, surrounded by many of my kind, relaxed and inert. I’m not sure what I’m supposed to be doing, but as nothing seems to present itself, I’ll just stay here. I can see nothing, I can hear nothing. All I can do is sense that I’m lying on others, but as they seem perfectly relaxed too, I’m not going to get worried.

There seems to be a bit of a commotion, noises, impossibly deep and loud and then a dazzling light, brightness and noise flood our small home. I try to move, to flee, but I can’t, try as I might, budge at all. A huge claw hovers over us, and me and a few others are dragged from the soft bed of our peers, and flung carelessly onto a cold, hard surface in the full glare of blinding light.

There are three, no, four of us, lying exposed, vulnerable and completely helpless. I thought we’d been abandoned, but no such luck. One by one, the claw returns and picks us up, carrying us one after another to some unknown and unknowable fate.

Only I remain, and then the hand comes for me too. I try to writhe away from it, somehow to escape, but I can’t. Helpless, I’m lifted away from the ground. Another claw comes, two claws now grab me, and then they pull, in opposite directions . . .

As the claws move apart, a change comes over my whole being. All my life, as long as I can remember I’ve been inert, formless, a blob of nothing much in particular doing nothing much in particular and going nowhere in particular.

Now I feel a new purpose. I feel tension, energy, power. The claws keep moving, I keep moving, and a fierce pride and exultant, excited terror rise within me. I feel myself flexing and moving, I have being and body and texture and it’s incredible. I realise that this is what I was made for, this is what I was put on earth to do. I have no idea what it is, but I like it! As the tension increases so does my fear and my joy. My middle, furthest from the claws is pulled and released, and finally I find my voice! I make a deep, low hum, and the world knows I exist! Then, joy of joys, my voice changes! It rises higher and higher, how could I not know of this before?

Then instantly I’m flying! I soar across the skies, the wind rushes by me, I feel powerful like I never have before. I arch, miles from the ground, scything through the heavens like a meteor. But, no, what’s happening? Where’s the tension? Where’s my voice? Surely it can’t all have gone so suddenly? I hit the ground, hard, but I’m not hurt, just inert again, formless and useless.

Another claw reaches out to pick me up. . .

LOL! These are fun!

Oh, that was great, Nerrie! Wonderful!