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Whatís it .....
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WhoĎs-it    Posted 07-10-2004 at 19:11:57       [Reply]  [No Email]
....On Gathering Eggs
Liking folks on other boards I too have been gathering eggs. And doing it the hard way, I donít even have a chicken. But, that is neither here nor there. Not having a useful nesting boxed chicken house I picked up my eggs from near-by fields. I started with one the first day.

Two more the second day.
A couple days later I added another and i had four to put into my imaginary egg basket.

No ordinary egg basket an imagined old fashion turn of the century kind of a basket, but a genuinely old one including a wooden handle.
These were no ordinary eggs. I gathered peculiarly dimpled shelled eggs. Nonetheless, having an inquiring mind, I looked them over closely. Each one had come into my hand with a predetermined name. And printed what looks like the Kingís English, names like: Top-Flite, Intech,, Magna, Range, Titleist, and Lexus. Some I found just laying there. Some came to my from out of the heavens raising a cloud of dust near my tractor disking a field. Immediately looking up I saw nothing: no bird or birds, no flying mammals, no mechanical aircraft; yet, could they have been dropped alien seeds from our Earthís outer reaches, invisible to the naked eye, to hatch and infiltrate our world, society, cities, homes or the like.
It was not easy researching these peculiar perfectly round formed eggs. No information in my National Geographic. And hearing only curious references to a cult group having organized with or without dues paying clubs. My first clues to the origins of these eggs came to me, over hearing a guys talking golf rounds in numbers of two or more. Whatever they were, or where they these eggs I found it difficult to discern? I discretely started listening closer to the same such conversations of other certain disordered individuals. And, over time, I have been able to determine these individuals actually hunt these eggs on regular basisís often gathering in groups of as many as four to go out and seek the layers of these strange eggs. A most peculiar behavior I must say.
It seems there are a larger number of these individuals calling other like minded individuals duffers, or in more belligerent terms, calling those other than themselves Old Duffers. And, all these people taking their pursuits seriously. Arming themselves with great bags of clubs, some walking to sniff out the scents, others driving special little cars, the driver and passenger having some sort of ESP talents for knowing where to find the next clue or the last egg that had caught a flight to be a very allusive quarry.
If one of these so called Dufferís knows of or finds one of these eggs, he draws out of a whole bag full, a single club. He will carefully line up the ugly end of that club and swing with all his might in an effort to crack, break or otherwise open that eggís shell. Only to find it was to no avail. The shell so tough the egg is often nay regularly lofted into the air. And whatís richer a single or whole group of these duffers will gang up on these egg innocents trying to beat the occupantís little heads off before they are even born, with a vengeance to opening it or them time and again.
Even more peculiar are the secret rules these duffers use to chase these devil eggs. They even go to the point of flagging a hole or lair of a suspected unseen producer of these eggs assuming the areas around these holes where the grass has been eaten so short there isnít enough grass tall enough to support a rabbit or lamb passing through is evidence enough
to mark the siteís hole with a flagged-staff should any other passing golf hunting individual come by in the future to try his luck. Are their aliens already here? I wonder?
These duffers a determined lot, so determined in their quests, unselfish to an almost fault, welcome even more Old Duffers to follow their failed attempts at success by marking the trails they themselves have had limited success on, if no more than merely finding the golf-bird/animal habitat, marking these feeding sites with flagged staffs stuck in the mystery bird or animalís hole.
Iíve found several of these wholly dimpled eggs in my farming practices. And here I have even been fortunate enough to have been out of the way when some one of these eggs landed near by. Often times I have looked up to never see the elusive air bareing varmint that had carelessly laid it on air currents rather than in a treed or grounded nest. All I have managed to do is collect them. Iíve kept a number of these eggs, tough little critters before they are, even unborn, deposited in their egg basket they never seeming to spoil nor develop offensive odors. The closest I have come to finding an open-able one, it was already cracked. Forcing the shell back to look inside it, it had evidently already spoiled, my finding nothing of the poor little specimens outer body, but rather only the animalís repulsive intestines looking, feeling, and YES even (so help me) to have tasted them liking some stringy rubber.
Shall I ever know all the complexities of another manís mind (the genuine Duffer) to go chasing a dimpled egg layer he has never seen? To crack and open an egg he shall never eat nor keep intact and never hatch? Long ago, I given up on understanding women!!!

KellyGa    Posted 07-12-2004 at 17:51:54       [Reply]  [No Email]
Now that is just weird. I liked it though. You are a man with a dangerous mind my good friend. ;)

EngineerJoyce    Posted 07-10-2004 at 20:29:52       [Reply]  [Send Email]
Yep, the writing is un-mistake-able!
You, sir, have an invitingly vivid imagination, as I have contended for some time now.

Bedtime. Sweet Dreams.

Chas in Me    Posted 07-10-2004 at 19:24:01       [Reply]  [No Email]
I liked the point of view.

Grove r    Posted 07-10-2004 at 20:31:21       [Reply]  [No Email]
Good story, Anvil, keep em comming...R.E.L.

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