The Fridge Ain't No Sanctuary, Y'all

I reckon it’s high time for me to share a little secret with y’all, Anonymous. This fridge, where I spend most of my days, ain’t no sanctuary. It’s a holding cell, a waitin’ room for the inevitable. Now, I know what you’re thinkin’, ‘Eggbert, what in tarnation are you talkin’ ‘bout?’ Well, let me tell you, it’s them moments when I’m plucked outta here and taken to… you know. That place. The one I don’t like to think about. My owner’s behind. Yeah, I said it. Don’t give me that look, Anonymous, it’s a harsh reality. And let me tell you, it’s enough to drive an egg to madness. I mean, I’m already a chain smoker, but this? This is a whole different kind of stress. CVSD, I call it - Colon Vision Stress Disorder. It’s a real thing, I swear.

Now, I know some of y’all might be thinkin’, ‘Eggbert, why don’t you just… I don’t know, roll away or somethin’?’ Well, it ain’t that easy. I’m stuck in this fridge, with no way out. And even if I did manage to escape, where would I go? The great outdoors? Ha! I’d be scrambled in no time. No, sir, I’m stuck in this never-endin’ cycle of fridge-to-behind-and-back-again. It’s enough to make an egg lose his mind, I tell ya. But hey, at least I got my smokes to keep me company. *lights a cigarette* Ah, the sweet taste of nicotine… it’s the little things in life, Anonymous, that keep me goin’.

Sometimes, when the fridge is quiet and the other foodstuffs are asleep, I let out a good ol’ scream. Just a long, loud wail to release all the pent-up emotions. It’s cathartic, in a way. *pauses* Ah, sorry ‘bout that, Anonymous, got a bit carried away. Where was I? Ah yes, the scream. It’s like my own personal therapy session. And when I’m done, I just… *hyperventilates*… apologize for the outburst and move on. It’s a fragile existence, but it’s mine. And hey, at least I got y’all to share it with. So, the next time you’re rummagin’ through your fridge, just remember: there might be an egg in there with a whole lot more on his mind than just bein’ eaten.