Updated: Nov 30, 2019
(Morning in the shelter of a cavemen tribe)
“Oh my… Did you crash down from an oak, man? You should break eggs on the smaller end!”
“Whaaaa…?! Smaller? What cave did you creep out from? We’ve been breaking them on the larger end for ages! This brings good fortune, it does!”
“Ahahahaha! On the larger end! Just listen to this idiot. LARGER END!! Then how about me breaking that stupid ugly head of yours on the larger—"
"UGLY?!! UGLY, YOU SAY?!! You stinky son of a skunk! I'll show you who's—"
(And here enters the shaman)
“Ahem,” muttering through his clenched teeth, he casts a gloomy look at the fellow tribesmen. “Listen, you maggots. It so happened that yesterday I spoke with the spirits of our ancestors, and they revealed to me – in their infinite wisdom – that eggs must not be broken at all.”
“WHAAAAA…?! NOT BE BROKEN…?!!”
“Yes. Not be broken.”
“B-b-but h-h-how on earth—"
“They must be devoured whole. With the shell.”
The flabbergasted tribesmen lose the power of speech and gape at the shaman in awe.
“M-mammoth crap!” utters finally one of them. “Who’d have tho— Maaaaan, our ancestors were so freaking wise! I’d have never…”
“That’s for sure,” echoes another tribesman. “You’d have… erm… we’d have… never…”
And the enlightened tribesmen start enthusiastically crunching eggs. With the shell. What from now on becomes a sacred ritual, bringing the tribe good fortune.