From the moment I sprang free from my mother’s back room, I’ve always wanted to be something special. The sun was shining and the sky was blue that day, and I was nestled in a little bed of hay. Life on the farm, you know how it is. The day I was born, my mother was so overjoyed she sprang from where she lay and sprinted around the room. I tend to have that effect on people.

Of course, I’m an egg.

They say of eggs that we can’t do anything. That we don’t have any arms or legs. That we can’t move of our own efforts. You know what I say to that?


Because eggs – especially me – are extremely versatile. Just the other day I managed to roll myself a full inch.

A full inch!

“You’re an idiot, Constantine,” my mother says to me at every opportunity. “Eggs are good for nothing but sitting there.” I never believe her. Every time she puts me down like that, I give her the silent treatment. That’ll show her good. Who’s the idiot now, Mother Hen? Not me. I’m a winner.

And today is my day of freedom.

I’ve been planning it for hours now. That’s a long time for an egg. My brothers and sisters are all content to lie there forever, never doing anything until the day they’re “hatched”. I don’t know what that means, but my mother acts like it’s a good thing. Well, she also tells me that I’m lacking in the yolk department, so I’m not exactly leaping to believe that what she thinks is a good thing is what I should think is a good thing. I don’t need to be hatched to be a badass. I’m an egg.

Constantine McCrackin. That is my name. Supreme Egg of the Egg Council and Lord of Egg Whites. My mother tells me that those aren’t real titles, but they must be, because they apply to me. That’s a reason, right?

I’m sure it is.

It’s me, after all.

Constantine McCrackin.


The Supreme Egg.

Constantine McCrackin.

Lord of Egg Whites.

The Eggxtreme Constantine.

Hey, that’s a cool name.

“ALL HAIL THE EGGXTREME CONSTANTINE!” I bellowed with my voluminous roaring mutism, and began to roll. It was kinda difficult getting over the hay, but I managed it. A full minute later, I’d managed to move half a centimetre. I’ve never moved this fast before. It really is my day of freedom.

I was on a roll.


The effect was immediate. All around the pen, nobody moved. What a reaction! I must have stunned them into shock with my bravery. I’m certainly the first of my holy fried brethren to try this before. Go, Constantine McCrackin, go!

Over the next half an hour, I managed to inch closer and closer to the edge of my allocated resting spot. The edge of the shelf was in sight. Below, the floor awaited and the door of the pen called to me.

“Constantine, you idiot!” it cried. “You useless shell, get back on your spot!”

Wait, that wasn’t the door. It was my mother. She was on the shelf above, watching me tumble and turn and spin at record speed towards my ultimate freedom.

“You can’t stop me now, mother!” I muted back. “Don’t try and hold me back!”

“Open fire!” she screeched, and flapped her wings threateningly. Then she turned and fired her cannon at me.

“INCOMING!” I shouted without a sound, and braced myself. The artillery gloop smashed against the hay right behind me, and I screamed in utter quiet as the shockwave propelled me a millimetre away.

“Stop, mother!” I cried at a level of zero decibels.

“Sod you, then, Constantine, you idiot!” she responded, and she turned her back on me.

And then I arrived. Covered in green-white debris from mother’s torpedo strike, I rolled the last tiny bit and I was free. The Supreme Egg, taking charge. Lord of Egg Whites.

The Eggxtreme Constantine was so awesome.

The wind rushed by my face as I cleared the edge of my shelf, and I could hear my mother’s voice as she screamed in apathy behind me. I imagined poking my tongue out at her.

The ground reached me rather quickly. Faster than I would have thought. But I was Constantine McCrackin. Nothing scared me.

I hit the ground, and saw the white at the end of the tunnel.