Egg (fiction) - Imme Visser
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Egg (fiction)


He shot up and jumped at his phone. Shut up, shut up! He pushed the ‘stop’ button aggressively and groaned loudly. His alarm went off automatically, every day. Also on Sunday. He would have turned it off before he went to sleep, except for the fact that he was completely and utterly drunk when he went to bed a few hours ago.

He was a light sleeper. Even when completely hung over, nothing could persuade him to stay in bed when he could also do stuff. Sundays were the only days he didn’t have any duties, anyway.

Thomas put his feet into his grandpa slippers and threw on a t-shirt. He got up and walked up to the mirror next to his closet. What was.. He looked over his shoulder. Nothing there. He must still be drunk, oh, he must certainly still be drunk, he saw. He was wearing his The Script t-shirt, a present from his ex-girlfriend, an overly excited fan of the band. Thomas wasn’t into boy bands, as he called them. He pulled the shirt back over his head and threw it on the ground. His face looked puffy and there was a huge insect on his shoulder. Wait, what the fuck? Thomas slapped wildly at his shoulder, then shook his head. There wasn’t anything there. Wake up.

He shuffled to the kitchen and poured himself a glass of milk. They should put a ‘hangover friendly’ sticker on food, he thought, that would be a great business opportunity! He noted to himself that he should remember this. The fridge was suddenly full of eggs, his housemate must’ve bought them or something. He got one out, ‘cause hangover friendly as well, but it slipped out of his hands. He saw it fall to the ground as if in slow motion and he really would have jumped back if it wasn’t for his rotten reactive powers. The egg broke on his foot.

Ten minutes later he sat down at his big, glass table with a plate full of grilled bacon and scrambled eggs. He still had to clean the kitchen floor but realised the reason of all this mess was the lack of food in his stomach.

“You got me this time, egg,” he said out loud. There was a loud BANG in the kitchen, as if pots or pans had fallen off the kitchen counter.

“Nathan? Hey sorry man, I broke an egg,” Thomas called. He hadn’t heard his roommate come in, but he could’ve been in the shower earlier.


“Nathaaaaaaaaan.” Thomas got up and walked into the kitchen again.

No one was there. He looked at the floor. The splashed egg was gone too. Had someone maybe drugged his drink last night? He had JUST dropped this egg, like, fifteen minutes ago, how could it be gone?

Thomas took the lid off the bin and looked for the remains of the egg there, but there were just some empty bags of chips and a bag of rotten lettuce. That really smelled. He quickly put on the lid again and went back to the living room when he heard a dripping noise. It couldn’t be..

He looked up and let out a horrible scream as the thing fell on his head and clawed his way up Thomas’ nose and slid into his mouth. His eyes turned up to the ceiling and his body found its way to the floor with a thud.

Nathan had a good day. He had woken up early and taken a bus to the park to have breakfast outside with his girlfriend. It was a sunny day and they had bought paninis at a local Italian lunch café. At two she had to meet her parents at their house so Nathan went home as well.

When he opened the front door, he heard music coming from upstairs. It wasn’t Thomas’ usual rock ‘n roll however, it sounded like he was listening to opera or something. Nathan frowned. Opera on a hung over brain? Maybe his roommate wanted to impress a girl.. Nathan tiptoed up the stairs and quietly opened the door to the kitchen.

There was Thomas, slicing up carrots like a natural born cook, halving them again and again and again until they were all the same perfect julienne size. His fingers were moving with the speed of light and Nathan saw to his revulsion that that was what was actually being sliced up. Fingers.

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