I'm a little bias because I fear eggs in general, but I've certainly seen enough of them to know that these eggs have some serious issues. I'd like to sit down with the eggs - I'd like to discuss these issues with them. I feel I can offer some newfound hope to these poor eggs, which even while next to sausagey dog shit, still manage to look creepy. I wish the eggs would listen to me, talk to me, but my prayers fall on deaf ears. I still pity the eggs despite their noncommunication, because but for a slight twist of fate, they could've clucked and eaten seeds. Now they live in my lid-shut trash can, a realm as dark as their unforgiving hearts. They will never see the light of day again, and shant be reheated. The eggs are gone forever now, and I salute their poor mother. Poor mother, I salute. I really hope I haven't inadvertently eaten you along the way.