Young Writers Society

I have no idea what the heck I am doing, if this is right... yay

‘Here is our chance, the chance to be the one that everyone will notice!’ thought the eggs among themselves. They all wiggled anxiously within their container. ‘The silly tomatoes couldn’t hold fresh for that long, we will though. We will rule the fridge!’ the leader egg chuckled evilly among his followers.

“HEY! EGGS! WAKE UP!” screeched the sour cream. “YOU”LL NEVER BELIEVE WHAT HAPPENED!” The eggs slowly turned to look at the stupid container of sour cream, “What now.” Grumbled the eggs, annoyed from being woken up from their daydreaming. “THE TOMATOES HAVE GONE BAD! THERES SPACE ON THE TOP SHELF!” squealed the sour cream. “Oh why does it matter, we’d never be able to get up there even if the human people were to put us there,” muttered the lemon juice. The milk turned slowly to stare down the lemon juice, “Don’t be such a sour lemon, sure we’ll get up there, somehow… some way we will!” The eggs wiggled anxiously, planning and plotting there way to the top.

The ketchup had its own plans, slowly, it begin to pressure against a spot in its shell, slowly leaking out some tomato paste, chuckling mischievously. It squirted the paste all over the eggs, making them scream in fear. “WE’RE DOOMED!” cried the eggs. “Don’t be crack heads, you aren’t going to die.” Muttered the mustard, “You haven’t seen the worst yet.” Slowly the mustard hopped onto the ledge, preparing to hop onto the prime spot, the top shelf. Suddenly out of no where a butter stick fell on top of the mustard, knocking it down to the bottom, splattering all over the place.

The eggs continued to tremble as the milk peered up, “Who’s up there!” An evil cackle answered him, out of the shadows peered… the ranch packet from Wendy’s! “It is I, I who have been sitting up here for ages. Unnoticed for so long, but now its my turn to be eaten, my turn to be the top!” she suddenly leaped across the open space between the door and the top shelf, but the eggs had another plan. “Are you sure you wanna do this private?” asked the leader egg. The littlest egg wiggled, “Aye, aye General Scramble!” The other eggs prepared to toss them as the ranch packet stared in horror, the littlest egg screamed in joy as he went air borne. –SPLAT-. The littlest egg hit dead on, smacking the ranch pack, and the littlest egg, to rest among the remains of the mustard.

The eggs settled down into a mournful silence, “He was a good egg. He would’ve… he would’ve made an omelet proud!” the general cried. The eggs huddled within the carton, crying for their lost pal. Suddenly, the door opened, light spilt within the fridge. “Oh look at the mess!” muttered the woman. Bending down she cleaned it up, looking at the top shelf, “Oh dear the tomatoes have gone bad!” She removed them and turned away, disposing of them. Turning back she placed a fruit bowl instead, on the top shelf, prime spot. As the door closed, an audible sigh could be heard, from the door of the fridge.