imma tell you a short story involving eggs and hispanic women
DISCLAIMER: I AM HISPANIC AND I AM NOT TRYING TO BE RACIST PLEASE DONāT BE OFFENDED I JUST THINK THIS IS A FUNNY STORY
One day, I was on a late night Walmart run in a very tourist-ey town of Florida. Now, the reason for the aforementioned run has slipped from the oiled hands of my memory, but there was one moment of the night I shall never forget.
I was on my way to get some eggs when I realized my problem: the eggs were gone. There were no cartons left. I could see a stray tumbleweed of a white shell rolling on the bottom. The few cheap blue cartons that were left had been corrupted.
Cracked.
Shattered, even.
How was I supposed to eat breakfast in the morning without some good olā clucker-fuckers? Eggs are essential.
Finally, when I thought all hope was lost, I turned slightly to the right. What I saw was astonishing. Two women speaking in rapid Spanish with, I kid you not, ALL THE FRICKITY FRACKING EGGS IN THEIR STUPID SQUEAKY GROCERY CARTS.Ā
So I just got cage-free eggs instead, even though I should have done that from the beginning.