I was laughing out loud at the sight of him on his knees, all bowed up in the middle and gagging. I’d never seen anyone react like that to a rotten egg. I had the upper hand and it was loaded with another warm duck egg. We’d found a whole nest full and I’d decided to crack one open and see what was inside. It exploded and splattered all over the ground and the air was full of it, a foul rotten sulfur stench. I recoiled and held my breath. My big brother, who was five years older than me and a foot taller, started to grunt and bow up in the middle. I watched and took a step back while he struggled to hold on to his breakfast. I looked at the egg that I was holding and realized that finally I had the upper hand and that hand was loaded with kryptonite. Superman had been disabled. “It’s not that bad”, I said and I drew back my arm and turned like a pitcher on the mound. “No, don’t do it, you little jerk.” He bear-walked across the field and stumbled and scooted along the ground. I let him get to his feet and I smiled then splattered the second one on the ground behind him. “Huump, huump”, he gagged and ran for the corn crib. I reloaded and hurled another one against the wall as he was closing the door. “Stop it”, he yelled and gagged a few more times. He watched me between the weathered shrunken boards. “I’m gonna kick your tail”, he yelled and I figured I was in for it now. So I threw another egg against the door. Pop, it exploded and splattered, yellow and green then dripped and ran down the gray planks. “Huuh, huuh, he gagged and spit inside the crib. “Stop it.” He yelled and I reloaded and considered what he’d do to me when I ran out of eggs.

 

I wondered what to do next. I’d run out of eggs soon enough and he’d drag me around the yard and maybe he’d choke me till my eyes popped out of their sockets. I’d never gone on the attack before so I had no idea how it would end, probably not good. So I laughed when he started to open the crib door then launched another egg and watched it explode all around him. “Uuuuga, uuuuga”, he gagged and retreated into the pile of unshucked corn. I reloaded and he asked me to stop so he could come out. I giggled and said, “maybe I’ll stop, maybe not”. “I’m gonna kick your tail!” He growled and I launched a quick volley of three against the wall and door. “Stop it”, he yelled. I giggled and began to negotiate with him through the wall. He said he wouldn’t kill me if I’d stop and I made him promise that he wouldn’t. I believed him because we didn’t lie to each other, much. “You promise you won’t beat me up?” I bargained and he agreed to let me be if I’d stop. He agreed and a truce was forged on the strength of our word. “You can come out now if you want to” and as he opened the door I threw a couple of rocks in the other direction. I was already out of eggs.

 

We laughed it off and he tossed threats my way, only threats. The rotten eggs were all used up but we were still brothers. Decades later, after we’d lived full lives, I was grumbling about someone who’d pushed my buttons and left me sore and ready for a good fight. He said, “You can’t out stink a skunk.” And then I remembered the eggs and my big brother who was hiding in the corn crib. Yeah, I thought, sometimes you have to run and hide in the crib.