In my dream this morning, I was an Alan Quartermain-esque* figure, and I was kicking around in my kitchen**. Another young man was there, a sidekick of sorts, who reminded me a little of young Indiana Jones and a little of Craig, the assistant chef to Jeff Smith of Frugal Gourmet fame. Indy-Craig had started some water boiling on the stove and I was fetching eggs*** from the fridge.
I had just opened the carton when were set upon by a ball-peen hammer wielding ruffian wearing dark robes and, of course, a mask. As he swung the hammer down, I knew I had to act quickly, so I held up the open carton of eggs to absorb the blow. When the hammer struck the eggs, the shells cracked but there was no drippy, sticky mess. They had been hard-boiled.
The ruffian hung his head, dejected, and then left.
Indy-Craig looked surprised and said, "You took an awful chance there, sir. Did you know that they were already boiled?" "Of course, my good boy. I put them there." "But then, why were we boiling water?" "That’s simple... to heat them up." [exeunt]
*I admit that I am very much looking forward to the release of League of Extraordinary Gentlemen. **As a side note, I’ve noticed that my dream-self lately has appeared as older than me and ripped. I’m hoping it’s a portent of things to come. ***Like any big-budget production, this dream needed product placement. The eggs were from The Country Hen. Thankfully, it is at least an endorsement I can make in good conscience.