She'd only given in because she was lonely. The eggs called to her from the kitchen. At first softly. As the night went on, they grew louder, and before long they were screaming. Screaming with a psychotic scream that only eggs could scream.
Eggnabelle couldn't handle it any longer. She pulled over her cardigan, the egg colored one naturally and got up to make herself a bowl of deviled eggs. She heated the water to boil them, and once it was hot enough, she tossed all six in. Minutes felt like hours as she waited for them to boil. "Why do they need to hard boil?" she thought, as if a minute or two less would make any difference to her. Well. . . it might have, for Eggnabelle truly loved eggs.
Ding! Finally! The eggs were ready. She shelled them, cut them each in half and scooped all the yolks out. She creamed them with the extra creamy mayonnaise from Shnick's Deli, mixed with some spices, and scooped the concoction into her piping bag. Eggnabelle fiddled in the cookie cutter drawer -- where all the knickknacks end up -- for the special star-shaped piping tip. Eventually she found it and fastened it to the piping bag.
Into each half-egg she piped a tablespoon of mixture, and by now she was salivating like a Great Dane looking at a bone. All finished, she put the piping bag aside, grabbed an egg and proceeded to place it in her mouth. "Oh!" Eggnabelle thought. "Paprika! Of course!" She turned back towards the spice cabinet and rummaged through looking for the paprika. She searched frantically and eventually realized she had none. There was no paprika for her deviled eggs.
She turned back, tears pooling in her eyes. All of her hard work was in vain. As she bawled a horribly ugly bawl, she grabbed a not-deviled egg, salted it, then ate it. The salt of her tears mixed with the egg as she masticated, and though it'd be too salty for a normal person, this was the only thing she could taste through her bitterness
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