My Hometown

My Hometown

Too Many Eggs

I told you about Mr. Morris’ chickens invading our square back in 1989.

After that incident, things stayed pretty quiet with his chickens other than the typical rooster crow in the morning or squawk when they were running after one another.

But in 1991, the chickens were back at it again.

One in particular was anyway; Queenie was her name.

Mr. Morris never named his chickens, but when Queenie started laying her eggs she never stopped so he just assumed that she was the Queen of the coop.

He woke up one morning and found a few eggs under her; nothing really out of the ordinary.

But then they kept coming, and coming, and coming.

Queenie wasn’t laying eggs as a daily thing, this was hourly.

4 eggs here, 3 more there…..and so forth and so.

Though Mr. Morris had already sold several dozen eggs, they wouldn’t stop coming.

He started giving them away; the church, Millie’s Diner, and then to everyone that lived in town.

The problem with my small town is that no one wants to hurt someone else’s feelings.

We must have had 3 dozen eggs in our fridge.

Mom tried her best to figure out uses for so many eggs.

She made egg salad for church on Sunday; so did everyone else.

She made cakes, meatloaf, and any recipe that called for the usage of eggs in them.

But that didn’t even make a dent in our stock of eggs.

She was getting frustrated every time that she looked at the cartons of eggs in the fridge because she didn’t want to throw them out and then have Mr. Morris see that she did (the hurt feelings thing I mentioned above).

And that’s when our week of breakfast for dinner began.


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