“Or the case of the nuns throwing eggs”: I was ambling down the road towards home last winter, when something collided with edge of my arm. Someone had thrown an egg at me, from behind, from a moving vehical. What brave souls. Egg throwing is a regular occurrence in H_____. At least it is going by the regular occurrence of shattered eggy remains on the street. May they RIP. It is in moments like those that I wish I had superhuman reflexes and so I could have lobbed that egg back through their rear window. Instead, I stood there for a moment going “WTF just happened?”, before I figured it out. Now, that isn’t the point of the story, and yes, there is a point. The point is I automatically assumed it was a pack of young males. It now occurs to me that it may also have been a pack of little old ladies (possibly nuns) out on a bender with a bottle of sherry and a grudge. After all, I never saw the perpetrators of this terrible deed. And I was much too busy going “Huh? Ow! You F***ing F***ers”. Their aim, whomever they were, was terrible. All they did was skim my arm (which still hurt *sniffle*). I wasn’t the one covered in yolk, the pavement was.
