Eggs

Yellow and white. Yolk and albumen. Protein and whatever that other stuff is. The foundation of sexual reproduction. Along with sperm. The female bit. X. Chromosome, that is, as opposed to porn, which is XXX.

Chicken eggs are oval, covered in a hard shell and soft in the middle. The yolk and egg white can be separated, but I have no idea why some recipes prefer one part or the other. Perhaps the yellow is prettier, the white more froth-producing.

We sometimes walk as if on egg shells. Why shouldn't they be broken? They are eventually. Why not now?

Coupled with sperm, eggs make babies. And babies make adults. And adults made eggs. At least the female ones do. Although some of them don't.

Raw eggs can be eaten, cooked eggs can be poached, fried, scrambled, omletted, souffléd. Hah, I just invented two new verbs!

Raw egg is runny. Like noses, snot, phlegm and diarrhoea. Though considerably tastier than the things to which I have compared it. Even though I've yet to taste a nose. Only its contents.

Eggs have it easy. They lie around until they are either eaten, become offspring or are crushed by passing cars. Why a passing car? Because a passing cloud won't damage that egg. It might make the egg wet. It might shade it from the sun. Unless it sent down a bolt of lightning to tickle the egg into spilling its precious contents. But that's unlikely since lightning goes for whatever is highest. Which eggs usually are not. There's probably and taller frog nearby. One that will soon get zapped. Or a flower.

So the egg will probably get off scot free. Lucky egg. Lucky Scot. (Or is it Scott?) Unless it's a Scotch egg. Because those things are nasty.