In the cool recesses of the quietest sand, lay a cozy domicile with exactly one inhabitant. Despite having the solitary isolation he thought he’d wanted, that inhabitant had gone seventy-three flavors of mad. One of those flavors was over-medium eggs.
“You call these over medium?” Jergen asked. “Where’d you learn to cook?”
“That’s not the right question,” Jergen replied to himself.
“What’s the right one, then?”
“If we’re thirty meters beneath the sand, where the hell’d I get eggs from?”
Jason P. Burnham loves to spend time with his wife, children, and dog. Find him on Twitter at @AndGalen.
If you’d like to read more of Jason’s stories, we have lots more on this site, all at this link.
▲ Return to Main Post
► “Internal Combustion” • by Gustavo Bondoni
► “Rain Dancer” • by Sylvia Heike
► “No Justice for Deserters” • by Pauline Barmby
► “Treasure Hunting in the Old City” • by Christopher Degni
► “Egg Disputes Beneath the Desert’s Quietest Erg” • by Jason P. Burnham
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Please don’t make me escalate to posting pictures of sad kittens and puppies…
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