Roy DeSoto opened the front door to his home and shook his head at the pained expression on his friend’s face.
“Who popped your balloon?”
“Huh?”
“You look like you just lost your best friend.” He stepped aside and motioned for the younger man to come into the livingroom. “Relax, we only have two things to take care of. Besides, it was your idea to help, remember?”
John Gage and Roy were partners at Station 51, where they pulled duty as firemen/paramedics on A-shift. Since they had Easter weekend off, John offered to help Roy with a few repairs needed around the house and yard on Saturday.
Gage gave a wry lopsided grin at Roy’s last remark. He was right. Thus there was nothing to do but make the most of what ever it was that needed to be taken care of.
“Okay. . .okay.” He entered the home and immediately turned his head toward the kitchen. The sound of a squabbling girl and boy could be heard from within the other room.
Roy followed his line of sight and explained, “Chris and Jennifer are dying Easter eggs. They’ve been at it for nearly thirty-minutes now. I think they keep dipping the same twelve eggs over and over to make it last. The bickering means they’re actually having fun, but I’m sure Joanne’s not,” he added with a grin.
But the squabbling was quickly replaced with crying.
“That’s not the sound of fun, though.”
He hurried to the other room, Johnny close behind. Once in with the others, they saw six-year-old Christopher kneeling on a chair at the table with a wire egg dipper in one hand over a cup. Four-year-old Jennifer was kneeling in a chair next to his, tears streaming down her cheeks as she looked sadly at a cracked pink hard boiled egg that lay on the table directly in front of her. Roy’s wife Joanne was trying to console the little girl.
“It’s okay, honey. There’s more eggs to re-color.”
True enough. There were ten brightly colored eggs in a paper tray in the center of the table that could be re-dipped, some for a third time.
“Bud I wanted dis one for Easter and now it’s dead!” Jennifer wailed again as Joanne looked helplessly at her husband and shrugged.
Roy stepped over and pulled out a chair on the other side of his daughter. He sat down and eyed the damaged egg. He had an idea.
“Look at the bright side, Jennifer.”
She turned in his direction and waited, wiping at her teary eyes and runny nose.
“Now you can eat the egg today instead of having to wait until tomorrow.”
“Bud it din’t even getta have any. . .any fun firsdt,” she sniffled.
“Ah, I wouldn’t say that,” Johnny put in.
Now Chris, Jennifer, Roy and Joanne all waited to hear what he was going to say, the latter two figuring it had better be good. Their little girl’s heart was obviously breaking more with each thing they’d tried.
“Well. . .uh. . .” Johnny shrugged. “Ten minutes to us is like ten years to a hard boiled egg. Your dad said you two’ve been at this for thirty minutes. . .so going by that, I’d say Eggy. . .can I call her that?”
Jennifer nodded, her eyes wide in amazement as she continued to listen.
“Eggy had at least thirty good years of life with ya. . .in egg years.”
“Really?”
Just glad to see she was buying what he was saying, Johnny continued with more enthusiasm. “Oh yeah. . .yeah. Heck, I’d even go so far as to say she ‘dyed’ a happy egg.” He snorted a laugh at his own attempt at humor.
The joke was beyond Jennifer and Chris’s understanding, but Joanne and Roy groaned in response. They appreciated his help, but figured he would be best to stick to being a paramedic and not try it as a stand-up comedian any time soon.
~*~*~
With the little problem solved inside, Johnny and Roy went to work on a broken section of the redwood fencing in the back yard. Being that the DeSoto’s dog kept getting out and on the loose, it was top priority to fix.
“So how’d you come up with the people minutes versus egg years so fast?” Roy wondered as he pulled off a splintered plank.
Johnny shrugged. “Just a little imagination. . .and a lot of egg-aggeration.”
Roy shook his head. “I had to ask.” He reached for a new piece of wood, hoping his partner’s humor would only have a life of minutes, and not the whole day they’d be working together. Or it would be his turn to look like someone had popped his balloon.
This was inspired by my daughter last night while she and I were coloring eggs for Easter. She dropped an egg and cracked it, and came up with the 'ten minutes equal ten years in egg'. It 'cracked' me up. lol
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