The sweat that started to seep from my pores was not due to the mid-day sun, but was the result of knowing that in a very short time, my friend and I would be the eventual butt of every joke that started with…
”Hey, remember that time…”
When I saw some of the contraptions that were dropped from the roof of that 2 story building, I started thinking about how truly vulnerable we’d left our little egg.
Egg after dropped egg, I waited for the plain shoe box affixed with nothing more than some twine to be hurdled the 20 or so feet to both end the excruciating pain of anticipation and commence with the laughter that was sure to follow.
Oh, the horror.
My friend and I hadn’t said a word to each other since we saw the first egg come sailing from above and then the next, and then the one after that…
and then the reveal when each container was cut open, unraveled by layers of protection and then exposed for all to see; some intact, some broken.
Surely the broken ones would serve to make me feel some relief from my heightened state of anxiety, right?