The eggs began to multiply.
That would have been fine, if they had come from chickens. But every time James opened the refrigerator there was another one. He blinked and closed the door again, careful to move some of the snails from the door frame to the counter. “Mercedes!”
She didn’t answer. Probably wasn’t home. Leaving James to deal with this himself. It wasn’t as if he had been busy. He had only been washing the dimes with mint so that they would stop being so dirty. As long as that was finished before the end of the day, it didn’t matter when it was done. Sometimes he was forgetful. It happened. Before the end of the day. The sound of them in the sink probably wouldn’t let him forget.
Now, the number of eggs.
James took them all out of the refrigerator and decided to make enough omelet for Mercedes to have too when she got back. That was easy enough and all was done before too long. He ate some, it was delicious. The snails had some too.
The the sound from the fridge brought back his disillusionment.
He opened it up for the last time, for more eggs to tumble out.
James sighed. Mercedes would murder him for this.