Plano Vol
Junior Member
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- Jul 22, 2004
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A fried egg story. Once upon a time I rode from Atlanta to Elberton with a guy who was going to swap cars for some reason at his mother's house. He and I along with another miscreant in the car were staunch herbalists and arrived at his mom's house with desperately low blood sugar. He pointed this out upon arrival so this poor woman commenced to fry us some eggs at midnight. That was bad enough but all three of us stood at the stove and drooled watching her cook them. She kept asking why our eyes were so red and we blamed it on the dust coming from the quarry.
Every time I hear "fried eggs", I chuckle.
Every time I hear "fried eggs", I chuckle.