les imbeciles des oeufs






Mardi Gras 2006

We were exhausted from long hours. We were nervous about our pending move. The air was thick with uncertainty and non-billable hours, and the fabric of space/time developed a chicken-shaped rift, visible only to the carefully trained eye. Brady Neely, confessed reader of Stephen King novels, seized the opportunity. Through a crude form of telekinesis, he was able to simultaneously insert an idea into Doug Hurt and Steve Salzer’s minds that it would be necessary for them to participate in an “impromptu” competition to eat large quantities of hard-boiled eggs while sitting on ladders, high above the madding crowds of Mardi Gras. And this they did, to the delight of dozens. The affair was overseen by our democratically elected “Chicken King” Jamie Darnell, who wore a ventless and rash-inducing Feathersuit of doubtful sub-Asian provenance. Although Steve ate more eggs than Doug, the event served as physical proof of the aphorism first attributed to Benjamin Franklin in Poor Richard’s Almanack: No one wins in an egg eating contest.

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