The Egg Terrorists
(January 31, 2004)

Recently we received three straight days of a snow storm.  Over the course of the "Storm of the Century", thirty centimetres of snow fell on our beloved streets, and in particular on the sidewalks.  Since the flower shop is not a high paying job, I don't own a car, thus I take the bus every day to work.  It's not too bad as the bus stop is only a few blocks away but a few blocks can seem like an eternity in the winter.

The first day of the snowstorm, my neighbour Mr. Becker did not shovel the sidewalk in front of his house in the morning or the afternoon.  I can understand the morning as many people are in too much of a hurry for work to shovel their driveway, let alone their front sidewalk.  When I returned from work, I assumed I had returned home faster than my non-shovelling neighbour which is understandable. although I did ruin a perfectly good pair of nylons.

The second morning of the snowstorm saw still nothing from Mr. Becker in regards to the front sidewalk or driveway.  Once again I stormed into work bitterly complaining about my lazy neighbour as I wiped all the melted snow of my nylons.  On my return home on that second day I was upset to find Mr. Becker's driveway nicely snowblown but not his front sidewalk.  It was time to do something.  It was time to call Frank.

Frank is a childhood buddy of mine.  Every since we were little kids he always talked about becoming a CIA agent.  This dream died at age 14 when one of the older kids at school informed him that CIA did not stand for "Canadian Intelligence Agency" but "Central Intelligence Agency".  He was crushed to learn you had to be an American or terrorist to join the agency.  Frank said he didn't know what was worse "being an American or being a terrorist" and that "maybe there isn't a difference between them at all".  So instead of thwarting assassination plans or overthrowing governments like a good CIA agent, Frank spends his free time planning black ops missions involving his everyday life.

"What should I do Frank to get Mr. Becker's attention?  I don't want him to know it's me who is upset.  Should I call the police?"

"Bad idea Suzy.  Police monitor calls.  When they say 'anonymous tip' they don't mean that at all.  They always trace those calls.  I recommend a contra mission."

I wasn't up to my CIA terminology so I asked him what a contra mission meant.

"It's an undercover mission that's leaves an important message.  Sort of like the horse head in the bed in the Godfather."

"I always wondered how someone could stay asleep while gangsters but a horse's head in their bed."

"That's not important.  Minor details."

Frank always said "minor details" when he didn't know the answer to someone questions his ops.

"So what do you recommend?"

"Egg Terrorism.  We have to egg his house.  The eggs will freeze to the windows causing your Mr. Becker to get his act together."

"Egg his house!  How does that solve my problem?  How does Mr. Becker connect eggs on his windows to shovel the front sidewalk?"

"Hmm...  we could break into his house - throw him to the ground and yell threats into his ears with a knee into his back.  I have a bowie knife that..."

"No.  I'm not attacking my neighbour!"

"Don't worry we'll have masks on so he won't know it us."

"No!"

"Well, I guess we could leave a note in his mailbox but I must warn you - it's not as effective as pinning him to the ground."

"A note could work.  That's not bad Frank.  I think just a note would do."

"No, no, no Suzy.  We need the eggs."

"I am not an Egg Terrorist."

"How many more innocent pairs of nylons are you going to let ruin before you take the appropriate action?  Five?  Ten?  Fifteen innocent pairs, Suzy TooToo?"

"What do we do if Mr. Becker comes out to see what the noise is about?"

"Give him one between the eyes."

"You mean an egg between the eyes, right, not a bullet?"

"I do - now."

"Frank - no life threatening weapons."

He sighed "All right." then eagerly said "Are you in?"

It seemed harmless enough, I mean what was the worse that could happen?  Mr. Becker washing egg off his windows which, if I saw him doing I would help anyway.  No one would get hurt.  I can't continue to wreck a pair of nylons each day.  I'm not made of money.  I work in a Flower Shop.

"Yes.  I'll buy some eggs tomorrow and we'll..."

"No, I'll be over in 27 minutes with the ammo."

He hung up the phone and arrived at my house in exactly 27 minutes dressed in black.  He put down his knapsack and started taking out its supplies for the mission.  First were two black ski masks.

"I am not wearing a ski mask Frank."

"Oh Suzy."

Next were two cartons of "Nature's Best" eggs.  Frank had purchased luxury eggs for the mission.

"Nature's Best?"

"I did a study of them a few years ago for a Physics class - they have the greatest splat radius.  It's quite impressive.  I can show you my data sometime."

I told him that was not necessary.  Last was the note.

"Shovel your front sidewalk now, or else!" it read in Frank's handwriting.

Frank went over the plan as I dressed in my camouflage which consisted of black slacks, black leather gloves, black Nike Airwalks and a black "Gap" hoody sweatshirt.  We snuck across the street at O-100 hours.  We quickly unloaded two dozen of "Nature's Best" onto Mr. Becker's front windows.  Frank ran up onto the stoop and put the letter in the mailbox.  The black-op worked perfectly until the moment when a police siren could be heard.

"It's a raid!" Frank yelled.

He jumped off the stoop and slid down the driveway.  As he passed me to cross the street he yelled "Abort!  Abort!".  Before I could tell him that I lived a few blocks away from a police station and that sirens were a normal occurrence, he had slipped on the shovelled sidewalk in front of my house.  Ice had built up on the sidewalk, ironically, because it had been shovelled.  I ran across the street to help my childhood friend who was lying on the sidewalk with a twisted ankle.

"Leave me Suzy.  Save yourself.  I won't rat on you.  I'll honour the code."

"What code?  What are you talking about?  Let me help you up."

"The code of an Egg Terrorist...  No, Suzy.  Leave me.  It's over.  I'll take the rap.  It's my handwriting on the note."

I helped him up and carried him inside.

The next morning as I walked to work, Frank's plan had worked as the sidewalk was shovelled.  As I admired the egg on Mr. Becker's house, my next door neighbour Mr. Bishop came up beside me with a shovel in hand.

"Can you believe that Suzy?" he said while looking at the eggs. "What is happening to the neighbourhood?  Egging someone's house.  It's sad really.  I'm glad Mr. Becker isn't hear to see this."

Oh know, what had I done?  Where was Mr. Becker?  Not the hospital.  Please not in the hospital.

"Where is he?"

"He's been in Florida for a week.  He comes back today.  He asked me to shovel for him while he was gone.  I was too busy snowblowing everybody else's driveways the other day and, of course, my snowblower broke yesterday.  It's still not fixed.  I had to do the sidewalk this morning with this old heavy shovel.  Boy does my back hurt."