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July 31, 2008

I walked into the kitchen the other night and opened a cupboard door to be greeted by a funny smell. Looked around the tins of beans and mackerel and other stuff but not spotting anything out of the ordinary I carried on.

Till I get home yesterday and my Father asked me to get him an egg while smirking. Oh he’s a prankster!

I open the same cupboard and open up the box of eggs to see one has cracked.

‘Oh very funny Dad’ I think.

Only to see that there is nothing leaking out. Looking closer I see that the membrane hasn’t cracked, and looking in side there is the tip of a little beak.

So we took it back to the supermarket only for the staff to get grossed out and to tell us to grab another box. One comment that did strike home was that these were definitely free range chicken eggs then as barn chickens don’t get room to move around let alone mate!

But the fact remains that after being seriously grossed out by a rotting chicken foetus and I’m not wanting to crack open an egg for a looooong time.


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  1. oh God… gross!

  2. By reading this, I don’t I want to crack open another egg. Not that I can. The shell always mixes with the actual eggy-yolk thing.

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