Fizzy Follies – Egg-mageddon

Hello my darlings!

Today is a day that always brings with it a lot of feelings, and so I am posting this story for a moment of levity for anyone who could use it.

Also, a pal on Twitter requested I share this tale, and you know me, I’m a giver.

I’d like to tell you about the time I was attacked by eggs. Not *with* eggs. By eggs.

And explosions…

When I was a teeny tot, I loved to help my mom in the kitchen, as kids do. For reference, the first “dinner” I ever made for my family consisted of mutilated tomatoes and oranges schlomped up with a butter knife because I couldn’t use sharp ones.

And they ate that bowl of mangled tomato/orange gloop because FAMILY.

Anyway, one night when I was about seven or eight, my mom and I were chilling out, watching Golden Girls (We were awesome.) and mom mentioned that we needed to make some hard-boiled eggs. Possibly we had a family gathering the next day. Possibly we just wanted hard-boiled eggs at 9PM on a Saturday.

Being the helpful kidlet that I was, I offered to let her sit and *I* would go prepare this glorious treat myself.

So she gave me instructions.

“Boil water in the microwave. Put the eggs in, and let them cook for ten minutes.”

Here is what I heard: “Boil water in the microwave. Put the eggs in, and then cook them for ten minutes using the microwave…”

This is an important distinction.

I get the water boiling, I get the eggs in, I set the timer for ten minutes, and I go back to the couch proudly, waiting for delicious eggs while the Golden Girls waxed poetic over cheesecake.

A few minutes later, there was a noise… A frightening thud.

We had a pretty good sized farmhouse kitchen, so thank the gods when I walked into the room I didn’t happen to be standing two feet in front of that mess…

I walked into the kitchen and stared at the microwave, which was still running, by the way.

Another thud. Something was thumping around inside the glass bowl that was spinning.

It was here I realized I should probably shut the damn thing off.

Before I could even take a step, BOOM.

I’m not kidding. This wasn’t a loud sound, this was like, TAKE COVER MOTHERFUCKERS WE ARE GOING TO DIE!! type explosion.

The door of the microwave shot off. Like, goodbye microwave door. Hello possibility of being killed by a flying microwave door.

And then came the eggs.

Partially hardboiled eggs launched out of there like deadly poultry bullets of doom, right the hell at me.

I managed to dive out of the way but I am dead serious, I vividly remember an egg flying directly at my face. This is not what you want to see…

The eggs made it all the way across the room (A good twelve or thirteen feet, by the way.) and exploded against the wall.

My mom, hearing this Egg-mageddon, came running in, and I can’t even imagine the sight. Your daughter huddled on the floor, bits of half-boiled eggs painting the walls (and me), the microwave tragically wounded, and so on.

She tells this story often and always bursts into hysterics saying, “Your eyes were like saucers!”

Damn straight.

I learned valuable lessons that day.

1. Directions are important.

2. I am part cat. Reflexes FTW.

3. Eggs are frickin’ TERRIFYING.

And that is my near-death by egg story. It is worth adding that egg bits are hard to pull out of your hair…

I hope you all are doing fantastic!

Until next time,

Peace, Love, and Eggs



  1. Omg. That is quite possibly the most wonderful kitchen story. Like. Ever.


  2. Oh my freakin’ heck, woman! I’ve had more than my share of kitchen catastrophes in me life, but none of them begin to compare to that. For the first time ever, I’m grateful I dislike hard-boiled eggs!

  3. I died laughing. Poor little Fizzy.

  4. Bahahahahaa! I love this story.


  1. Winner, Winner, Chicken Dinner… | Rissa Writes - […] I was picked for #teamfizze on hilarious Summer Heacock’s blog. Seriously, you must go read her egg post now!…
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