Odd Egg: Weird Experiences Turn Grotesque in Spooky Season Body Horror

A smiling stranger leaves Mary Ellen a carton of free eggs and promises a god lives inside. Eleven shells crack open empty, the twelve hatches something impossible on six spidery legs, and what it becomes next is hungry. What's that? You want to be scared? Come with me. You will experience tales over our room, ghosts and death. He does not recommend it for the week at our tart listeners in the dark. It's more fun that way way. This is Weekly Speaking. Hello, my spooky is It's Wednesday, and you know what that means. It's time for a little spooky in your weekly.

I'm your host and narrator, Henrique Couto, and tonight we have a story from a brand new author, a man named Alex Grass, who submitted a story from his brand new book Infernal Tramps Tales of Weird Terror, and I think he's going to fit in very well. But before we get to that, I want to say thank you all so much for joining us here tonight. It's summer, but lots of you are already thinking about Halloween, because well, Halloween never left you, so why should you ever leave it? So make sure you're subscribed on your favorite podcasting app to get a little taste of Halloween every single day of the week.

As necessary, we'll be here, I promise, And if you love what we're doing and want to support us in a very direct way, head toweeklyspooky dot com slash join, where for as little as one dollar a month, you get two bonus shows every month and over five years of exclusive audiobooks and creepypasta readings at Weeklyspooky dot com slash join now as for tonight, most people know better than to accept food from a stranger. But when that stranger is painfully polite, the eggs are free and your refrigerator is empty, suspicion can start to feel a lot like bad manners.

Mary Ellen only wants breakfast instead. The final shell in the carton reveals something with a human face, way too many legs, and a life cycle no chicken could have ever dreamed of. Soon, the thing in her kitchen is growing, and it may not only be a servant to the mysterious KCGA. So spookies, take this story as a bit of warning. Before you crack your next egg, listen closely. If something inside scratch his back, put down the skillet and run, but stick around if you're hungry for more. Odd egg by Alex Grass. There was a man waiting for me on my front porch when I got home from work.

He waved at me as I walked up my driveway to my house. I had a strange feeling about him, because he was a strange looking man. There are strangers and then there are strangers, and there's a world of difference between them. But I waved back. Good evening, I said, and to you, the man said. His head was shaped like an egg. It was almost one third taller than the average man's head. Can I help you, I said, Let me not be rude. It's my pleasure to make your acquaintance in the way of comedy and fellowship.

I'd like to introduce myself. My name is Roger. He held out for a handshake. I shook his hand. His fingers were long and cold and bumpy. A strange stranger's, strange head and strange hands. Roger. I'm Mary Ellen. Let me also not be rude, but still be direct. I've had a long day at work. Maybe you could come right out and tell me what you're doing here and how I can help you egghead. Roger nodded, like I'd said something true and wise. I can certainly appreciate that. If there's some thing that I can appreciate, it's directness.

That's what folks are missing these days. Directness that along with direction. I'm a rather direct man myself, he said, though in the middle of disproving the same, So let me get right to it. He bent down and reached into a paper grocery bag, then pulled out a carton of eggs. I'm from the Keystone Cooperative Grower Association, and I would like to offer you these eggs. They're farm fresh and cruelty free, and it would be my honor and the honor of my fellow growers if you would accept this gift and use these eggs to your own delight.

He held out the carton. I took the eggs. Oh, oh, okay, this is like this is a what is this a carton of eggs? Ma'am. His smile was too wide for his face, and it looked like the gesture was hurting him. Yes, I understand that part, good, he said, But why are you giving out free eggs? This is just a service we provide to the community. You see the KCGA. That's our initialism for brevit you understand. The k CGA's position is that to enjoy a good egg is to enjoy life. We want the whole world to enjoy their lives, which to some degree means we want them to enjoy our eggs too.

Oh, do you know that a god lives inside our eggs? How's that? Now? The time will come when the god filled eggs will feed the sick and the poor, until the sick and the poor are no more. That time will be the time of the egg. Everything unborn will be born, and everything dead will be born again. All will fall under the judgment of the many heads. I stared at him. Is this a religious thing? I'm not really much of a church goer. There will be no more faith when the world's flags are blooded by the many heads.

The light of sanctification is kept only inside the egg. I've only ever met one scientologist. Are you a scient Well, as I said, it would make all of us at the KCGA just happy as the day is long. If you'd only take those eggs and enjoy them for yourself, and with that, I will leave you and wish you a wonderful rest of your evening. Enjoy your eggs and enjoy your life, ma'am, and if you can enjoy both at once, he turned and sprinted toward the woods. I looked down at my carton of eggs, thinking of l Ron Hubbard.

The KCGA man was half a bubble off plumb, and I was undecided as far as eating lunatic produce. I thought I'd mull it over before frying up the man's eggs. But maybe I was being mistrustful. I reminded myself to keep in the habit of having faith in people until they gave me a reason not to. I woke up hungry Saturday morning, still in my pajamas. I maundered downstairs with the residue of sleep in my eyes. I looked in my refrigerator. There was nothing in there, nothing but the KCGA eggs. I picked the egg carton up out of the refrigerator.

I put the eggs on the counter next to where the range was built in. I took the salted butter from the fridge and lobbed off a dollop into the skillet. I clicked the gas on the stovetop. The skillet got crackling, I reached for one of the eggs. I picked up the first egg, nice and cold from the fridge. I could feel the weight of the albumen and yoke inside the shell. But when I broke open the shell on the edge of the skillet, nothing came out. I felt like one of those rubes a magician calls on stage just to make fun of them.

Nobody likes a trixy egg for breakfast. I picked up the next one, holding the heft of a shell full of egg. I again split it on the skillet, not but nothing the same as before. There I was starting to get miffed. I went through eleven eggs that way. I felt a chicken embryo sloshing around inside every shell. Hell, I know what a full egg feels like. I cracked almost all of them open, empty, down to one. One egg was left in for a penny, in for a pound. I picked up what I expected to be the last empty egg.

Except when I cracked this one, something came out. It wasn't the yolk. An egg shaped human head plopped skittering into the skillet. It had two sets of three little legs, a set coming out of each side of the head. I screeched, and when the spidery little head hit the skillet and started sizzling, it started screeching two. I took the spatula and flipped the thing onto the counter. It moved its spindly little legs in purposeless panic, cried like how a baby cries. A tiny little egg sized critter half fried on my kitchen counter. I turned off the burner.

I had no idea what to do next. The six legged head made a wheezing sound, followed by a noise like air being let out of a bicycle tire, and then it was dead. I didn't shower, or brush my teeth, or put real clothes on, or any of the things i'd earlier play to do. I poured myself three fingers of whiskey, grabbed the pack of cigarettes I swore off two months ago, and parked my ass on my front porch stoop. I sat there until I'd finished my whisky and smoked half a dozen parliaments. I tucked my old fashioned glass behind my dairy air.

When the early risers passed by on their morning stroll to neighbors, who stopped and said they thought I'd quit smoking, I made a gesture of Hey, what can you do? I had some liquid courage to fortify me. So I re entered my house and went back in my kitchen. The six legged head was gone, but there was another egg in its place. This one was about the size of a grapefruit. I figured on driving down the state road to my friend Dustin's. His daddy was a poultryman, so Dustin knew lots about chickens and lots about eggs, and loved talking about both, so much so that I'd previously found him duller than watching paint dry.

But it's not like I ever told him that. I put the big egg in a little grocery bag and hung it on the wall hooks while I got ready to see Dustin. By the time I was clean and dressed, there was someone knocking on my door. I went downstairs and opened it to find my old high school boyfriend, Danny. Danny smiled, I smiled back, Hi, Mary Ellen, Danny, how's tricks? Well, you know I'm in town to visit my brother and my new niece. He had a girl this time. How is good, old early Bird, I said.

We used to call Danny's baby brother early Bird Earle because he was a known fuss budget, who'd rather lose a limb than show up at a church or school any less than fifteen minutes. Early, his mother used to say that Earle would make sure to be dead and resurrected twice before anyone else even knew the rapture had started. He's more boring than watching grass grow, say, I was wondering if you I'll get my purse. This was a semi regular thing. When Danny came back to town, we went out carusing. After trolling roadhouses, we returned to my place to as I've heard it, put Netflix and chill.

I was out there door not a minute later. The grapefruit sized egg still hung on my wall hook, momentarily forgotten through the call of my lust. My friend Jackie dropped us back off at home. Three sheets to the wind, two blitz to steer the ship, but too old to be stupid enough to drunk dry either. Some call that wisdom. Me and Danny stood under the fading yellow porch light as it projected the shadows of moths aerial maneuvers. Danny kept grabbing at me, not in a bad way. I needed to concentrate because the lock kept moving away from my key, Mary Ellen, I you know, I like I.

I turned around and held my finger to my lips, trying not to laugh. Sh I got neighbors. They're late when it sleeps, I mean, Danny, Hey, Danny, what do I mean? You mean they're sleeping when you? Danny stumbled back into my wind chime and made it jangle shit. I started laughing hysterically. Through catching my breath, I managed to tell Danny that I thought my neighbors probably shat during daylight hours too. He didn't get it. To be fair, I'm not sure it was a joke. I got the key in the lock and opened the door. Danny grabbed my wrist and stopped me from walking in.

Hold on, little lady, it's late at night and the light's not bright. Let me check out your homestead, he said, and waggled his eyebrows. I laughed and held one arm toward my door like a girl presenting game show prizes. My hero your chivalrous as shit. Danny walked inside. A few steps in he abruptly stopped. I heard a gurgling sound, then a croaking sound, like when you're in really bad pain but don't have the wind to cry out. Danny just stood there spasmodically shaking, Danny, what are you doing? I reached inside to the left of him and switched on the vestibule light.

I saw why Danny was shocked still and gurgling. Two foot and a half long barbs punctured his neck and the side of his head at his temple, respectively. There came a quick slushing sound as the barbs slickly slid out of his throat and skull. Danny convulsed as he fell to the floor. I stared, unable to move. A half dozen legs each like a seven foot long bendable stilt, carried forward a massive head the size of a yoga ball. My adrenal gland secreted enough to quickly boot me off my drunk. I put together the sequence in my head.

The first egg gave birth to the first tiny head with legs. The first tiny head with legs gave birth to the bigger egg. The bigger egg gave birth to this. The barbs snapped back into the egg shaped head's mouth. The things six legs locomoted like a basketball hoophie spider crabs. Its height was all long limbs. I screamed. I turned to run, it snared me on one of its crustacean spindles. The appendage was no thicker than a garden hose, but the kinetic strength of the other five legs produced an unimpedable force. As the six legged head flung me like a rag doll across my living room, I hit head first into a wall.

Everything went black. I woke up in the corner of my living room. The six legged head was much bigger than before. A proboscis like a livid, blood red bamboo shoot extended from the middle of its forehead down to the ground, where it had punctured Danny's body through the top of his skull. I heard slurping and sucking noises over a sound like a wet dry shop vacuum. As it sucked out Danny's brains and guts, the six legged head metamorphosed. Bulbs of flesh molded on its face, bones broke and reset to altered curvatures. It was a nightmare clamation a freakish rob boteine practical effect.

Its face was turning into Danny's. By the time it slurped up all of Danny's insides, the egg's face had completely changed into his its proboscis shucked itself free from the swollen puncture in Danny's skull. My date's dead body shrunken, drained of its every wet drop. The six legged head noticed me as if I'd only just appeared. It approached my corner in the gate of a mutated hexapod. Once beside me, it looked down. I looked and saw the top of its head almost touching the ceiling tiles. I from KCGA. The six legged heads spoke in Danny's voice.

I started crying, neighborly is giving eggs? You happiness with eggs, You loving eggs. I covered my mouth to blunt, hiccuping sobs, trying not to make noise. It was right there, God, that thing was right there. AND's voice, I I, My voice coming from my body startled me. I was flooded. Had the six legged head penetrated my flesh? Had it infected my brain? Was I a host dreaming my parasites dreams? It chittered and got louder. Under Danny's voice was a noisy, burbling sludgelike food through a gassy gut. You are happiness inside eggs, are neighboring happy eggs.

Yes, yes, I am very happy with the eggs, I managed while bearing down on my weeping. The six legged heads seemed to think this over for a minute. It spoke, Eggs is community, Eggs is neighbors and neighborly. Eggs is friendly and are gooding. You will to buying more eggs. Yes, yes, I'll buy more eggs, I swear. I looked around for my purse. Did I have cash? Is that what it wanted? I could go to the Oh oh, I thought of something. I just I have to go to the bank to get money to pay you, I said.

The six legged head was processing this as it worked out my proposal. It spoke its thoughts, allowed, bank are money, money are giving kcga kcga, god of people's eggs is kcga. Money is going to forg egs x x x exchange, I said. The six legged head blue dumb forced laughter out its mouth, like a grade schooler guffawing at a joke about political economy. Its laughter stopped suddenly enough to almost be violent. Eggs are money, exchange. Eggs is money. Our money is kcga. Money is God of peoples. It leaned over me with a stupid but penetrating gaze.

Bank are where I pointed toward the door in town. Money are bank? I nodded, yes, the money is in the bank. It bent one of its spidery legs and scratch which the necklace underside of its head body. I don't know if it was thinking or aping a gesture it had seen a thinking creature. Make you go bank? It said, yes, I go bank. It skittered backward a few steps and opened a clear path toward the front door, then turned to look back at me. Eggs is money and our kcga, god of all peoples, you are going to bank.

I didn't know what it wanted me to do. I didn't move. Go the head said, with much more loudness and force. I didn't need any more prompting than that. I got to my feet, careful to make no sudden movements. I tiptoed past the six leg head with as wide a berth as I could give. As soon as I was at my door, I ran. When I came back with the police, there was no evidence of any of the things I claimed had happened had actually happened. There was no blood on my living room carpet, no six legged head, no egg carton in the trash from the KCGA, no Danny's body, nothing, all of it gone.

I was warned that I needed to cut back on the sauce. Ems came and checked me out, asked me how many quarters make up a dollar and who the president was. They said that I might have been soused, but was still pretty lucid. One of the EMTs nodded his head at me sideways while talking to one of the cops. The cop came over and asked me a bunch of questions. They were all round about secondary queries. What he was really asking was are you now or have you ever been a drunken lunatic spinster. The cop decided the answer was probably yes.

I was cited for the misdemeanor crime of false alarm or report. I sought psychological counseling. You tend not to believe your own eyes when something happens like what I've precedingly described, I thought it couldn't hurt. After a week or so, I got a call from Earle asking if I'd seen Danny. I told him we'd gone out, and I told him that I told the cops too, and I left it all at that when Earle sees me in the grocery store. Now he gets a look on his face like he's smelling shit. Then he turns and walks the other way.

I wouldn't be surprised if he wanted to kill me. A month later, there was a carton of eggs waiting on my doorstep when I got home from work. There was a note tied to the carton, nodded to it with twine. Enjoy the latest batch. Please remit payment at your convenience your friends at the KCGA. Well, my spookyes. The next time a painfully polite stranger offers you some free, farm fresh eggs, Remember, breakfast should never have so many appendages. I know they say breakfast is the most important meal of the day, but I'm gonna skip it.

A huge Spooky thank you, and welcome to Alex Grass, making his first appearance here on Weekly Spooky. His ebook, Infernal Tramps Tales of Weird Terror, is available for only ninety nine cents on Amazon and is free to read with Kindle Unlimited, and you could find out more at Infernal Tramps dot com. And I have a feeling we'll be hearing from Alex again very soon. Thank you all so much for joining me tonight. Make sure you are subscribed on your favorite podcast appen while you're at it, share this scary story with a friend who loves Halloween just as much as you.

And if they don't, maybe it's time they learn and you are gonna teach them. And I want to say a very special thank you to all of you who went to Weeklyspooky dot Com slash join and support us for as little as well one dollar a month, but especially my Patreon podcast boosters folks who pay just a little bit more to hear their name at the end of every episode of Weekly Spooky, and they are Johnny Nix, Kate and Lulu, Jessica Fuller, Mike Eskewey, Jenny Green, Karen we Met, Jack Kerr, and Craig Cohen. Thank you, guys, and if you want to hear your name at the end of every episode in my silky spooky voice, head to Weeklyspooky dot Com slash join and sign up at the fifteen dollars a month or higher tier.

It makes a very big difference and helps us keep the show going and going. And boy do we have so much to share with you come October. But now it's time for me to get back to it. There's of course a Thursday Thrills for you all to enjoy that I've got to get to recording, so make sure you're subscribed and I'll see you tomorrow for a little more. Spooky for my executive producers Rob Fields and babbletopia dot Com, my producer Dan Wilder, and of course my creepy composer Ray Maddis. I will talk at you tomorrow and maybe go for cereal instead.

Thank you for listening things. Make sure to find your way back next week week. But for now you are safe, trust me.