It was hiding among the other eleven -- its shell wrinkled and strange. The one bad egg.
I did not know what to expect if it were cracked.
It sat in the carton until it was the only one left.
I felt sorry for the bad egg, thinking maybe it wasn't so bad after all.
But, with a light shining through it, looking strangely alien, I thought surely this must be a bad egg.
Crack! Into a bowl it went.
Looking for all its worth like a good egg, after all!
Prompting me to crochet my own eggs, never to be bad.
Ever. Or the evil rooster will get them.