Ker-Splat

I have witnessed the whole egging scene before. Usually it consists of one carton, a few bored teenagers and immature decision-making skills. Seeing a car with the wet yolk running down the side of the window always seemed comical to me. It must be harmless, a harmless act that can be cleaned up quickly. I horribly confess that I even partook in “egging” way back in my junior high days. Maybe it was the adrenaline rush that got me, or the fact that I was doing something that I wasn’t supposed to be doing. I never did get caught. Now, what do they say about karma?

Monday mornings are always my favorite. It is finally a time where I can slack a bit on opening duties and sit back and enjoy a book for about six hours. I usually move a few things around, pop open one of those crusty umbrellas and sit back to a new adventure in one of my library books. This morning turned out to be a little different. As I yanked open the rusty lock on the lifeguard “shack” I quickly grabbed an umbrella and pivoted to check out the deck. Out of the corner of my eye I caught a gleam of something white. Was it what I think it was? I jerked around again, this time to fully take in my surroundings. That piece of white made its way around the entire deck. Cracked eggs, splattered across the concrete deck with their dried yellow yolk staining everything it touched. I stood there, shocked. Still gripping the umbrella, I took a few steps forward to peak into the pool. I held my breath. Sure enough, at the depths of 10 feet of water, were a few dozen eggs. Some were broken, their yolks floating in a small area like yellow jellyfish. The rest of the eggs lay silently on the bottom of the pool, like small little treasures…that reeked! The stench took over my senses. Rotten eggs.

I couldn’t tell what was worse, the fact that I was going to have to sit at the pool smelling this for another six hours or that I was going to have to dive down in egg-infested waters to retrieve the little tokens that the culprits left behind. Realizing that I was still holding the umbrella, I quickly laid it down and ran up the rickety steps to the Trustees office. Their two smiling faces greeted me. They had no idea what was coming.

"Have you seen the pool?" I asked quietly. They both jumped out of their comfy swivel chairs (which I have half the mind to swipe one of these days as a reading chair) and ran towards the deck, peering over the rotten wood. A jumble of expletives flew out of their mouths. I tried hard not to laugh, because this definitely wasn't a laughing matter. Instead I leaned over too, trying to detain the inevitable cleaning I was going to have to do: alone.

The trustees went back to call the police. I don't know what use that would be, but a report was made (saw the darn thing, about three pages long). I trekked back down to the egg-splattered pool deck and started with the cleaning process. I can't imagine how many pieces of white egg shell and slime touched my fingers. I tried to breathe out of my mouth, but gave up after 10 minutes. Instead I gradually learned to ignore the stench that was constantly in my nose. My gag reflex was tested many times.

As I made my way around the deck, picking up white shards, I came across a large pool of red. I was perplexed. Where did it come from and how did it tie into the egg charade? It was dumped over white lawn chairs, staining the bleached straps in light red spots. I soon found the 64oz. jar of Prego sauce in the dumpster nearby. I hate being the victim of stupidness.

I paraded around the deck, mindlessly following the trails of shells. I warily kept glancing at the pool, trying to postpone the duty of gathering the eggs from the bottom. There was not an alternative. That was not until the Trustees called one of the "rule-breaking" squirts to come down to the pool and help me. It was a better punishment than I could ever dream. The poor kid, after one dive, came up and looked at me with those big goggle-covered eyes and said,"It smells."

After all the eggs were collected (I was afraid to count them, but it turned out to be around 30 or 40) I started the vacuuming process. That alone took over an hour. By the time I could get around to reading my novel, I was exhausted and smelled like a foot.

Anyone know how to clean up egg yolk off of concrete? I sure don't.

Until the next fiasco...