Eggs Aren't Just For Breakfast!

Watching wrestling on TV every Friday night with Granny Hubberpants was always a treat. She got so excited over those danged men that she’d pee her hubberpants every now and then. Her favorite wrestler was Wahoo McDaniel. She’d giggle and clap every time he made his way into the ring and strutted around with his Indian headdress. As the match would begin, she’d scooch up to the end of her chair and scream things at the TV, like…

C’mon Wahoo baby! Give dat sucka one a dem tomahawk chops upside da head!”

Granny thought wrestling was real, and she always did have a thing for Indians. I think that goes way back to one of her granny’s who was suspected of sneaking behind the woodpile with an Indian or two when it wasn’t cool to do that sorta thing.

Anyway, there was one Friday night when wrestling was cancelled due to some political news story. Boy was Granny mad, but she was quick to come up with an alternate plan. At 70-something she was really quick-minded, and she loved to do wicked things for a laugh. So she called each of my three aunts on the phone and told them all to come over to the main crib with as many cartons of eggs as they could get their hands on.

Don’t ask gahdang questions! Just bring dem eggs and bring ‘em quick!

Granny Hubberpants ruled with an iron fist and the bellowing voice of a marine drill sergeant.

One by one my aunts arrived with the eggs, and once we were all gathered in the kitchen with many rounds of jello shots sitting on the table, Grandma revealed her plan as she excitedly slurped up a whole ice cube tray of shots…

We’re goin’ up to Main Street, and we’re gonna egg the cars of everybody I don’t like. No, your enemies don’t count gahdang it! We can’t egg everybody in town, so we’re eggin’ the ones I don’t like which is nearly all of ‘em ‘cept for that Cubbage family that brings me funnel cakes from the fair and that Garringer girl who carries me up to the poop chute doctor when I get all irregular.

OH, and if that gahdanged Mavis the palm reader from the radiator shop drives by, hold on to your eggs! We don’t need no curses put on us!

While it could be very dangerous to ask Granny questions, I had to ask just one…”Granny, do you think we oughta camouflage ourselves with bush branches before we go?”

Well gah yes child, we can’t go traipsin’ up the street lookin’ like a clan of Hubberpants’ can we? Now get out in the gahdang backyard and round us up a bunch of branches!

Outside I went and commenced to rounding up as many branches as I could, but I already knew there’d never be enough in the whole dang town to cover Granny. She was only five feet tall and must of weighed at least 250 pounds. But I had a plan to avoid saying the obvious. When I got back in the house, I suggested that she be the one to duct tape the branches around our waists pointing upwards to cover the top half of our bodies. By the time she finished with the four of us, there was none left for her, so she went up to Candyman’s sleepover room and grabbed some of that black grease that football players put under their eyes and covered her face with it. What a site. She looked like she coulda been one of those big ole female wrestlers.

I became a little concerned about how Granny was gonna pull this off because there would be no way for her to crouch down behind the bushes with her arthritis. She always wore one of those copper bracelets around her wrist, and she was convinced it worked. But there was a problem finding anything copper to put around those fleshy knees of hers. Big Daddy saved the day by coming up with the bright idea to get some copper wire to wrap around her thick knees. It worked real well, but it made her walk like a robot, and her legs went flying straight out when she sat down.

On this night she wasn’t wrapped in copper, so I grabbed a footstool for her to sit on. I figured it would hold at least one of her massive butt cheeks. She shot me a wicked glance, and then grabbed it from me as if it was her plan to take it all along.

Up the street we walked with Granny leading the way and the rest of us covered in branches, toting eggs with one arm, and poking our pimp canes out with the other arm to navigate our way as best we could. Once we reached Main Street, she quickly found us a long group of bushes to crouch behind. As Granny lowered her massive backside down onto the footstool, a new problem presented itself…

Candyass! How the hell am I gonna see to throw my eggs?!

That would be me, Candyass, that she’s yelling at. I explained to her that I’d make a little peephole through the bushes for her to see the cars, and she could lob the eggs over the bushes like a catapult. So I jabbed a hole at her eye level through the bushes with my pimp cane, and she was real pleased with how well this was going to work out. She gave me a little pat on the ass and said…

You girls go on up from me about 6 feet and get ‘em from the front, and I’ll flank ‘em from behind just like in that gahdang Braveheart movie…only we ain’t moonin’ our asses tonight!

We all got into position and waited for Granny to give us the word. Turns out she really does hate most of the people in town because every few seconds she’d scream “FIRE!” Her plan worked like a charm. We were smearing windshields left and right, and then she’d flank the back end of the car with her fleshy arm working like a catapult. Thank goodness her copper bracelet wasn’t on her throwing arm. That could have been very dangerous if it had worked itself loose from her wrist.

Surprisingly, 6 dozen eggs don’t last long when you’re throwing them at cars, but that was perfectly fine. People were getting awful mad at us...giving us the finger and all that kinda chit. Of course, that didn't matter much to us, we were satisfied with our wickedness and turned to make our way back to the crib with Granny leading the way wobbling back and forth on stumpy tree trunk legs. About halfway down the road, we heard a police siren.

Make like bushes quick!

Like jungle cats we jumped over into a neighbor’s yard, fell to our knees and crouched down to make like bushes. Granny wobbled over and stood behind us making out like she was looking for something in the bushes. The police car drove by very slowly, and the driver seemed mildly interested in why Granny was poking around in the bushes with her face all painted up with black football grease. I guess they figured she was having a spell or something, because both policemen were smiling and laughing as they drove on their way up the street to look for the eggers. Lots of people in town think that Granny takes to having “spells,” but it’s just pure wickedness that overcomes her, and I think those wicked moments are the most fun times I ever spent with her.

Anyway, we were laughing our asses off all the way down the road, and when we finally got to Granny’s crib, she plopped down on the couch, took her teeth out, and barked…

Get my gahdang knees wrapped and bring me some a dem gahdang jello shots!