It all started out so innocently.
The week before Easter there was no news. Absolutely none. Admittedly, not much ever happened in Scottsbluff, Nebraska, but this was serious. No crimes, no traffic accidents. Not even a school board meeting. Amy was desperately looking for any way possible to fill a half-hour newscast. As a one-person newsroom, she was facing a black hole of content that was inexorably drawing her into a crushing death spiral.
Desperate, she even turned to Harmon, the young, prematurely balding production manager.
“You gotta help me, Harmon. I’ve got half an hour to fill and no news!”
Harmon looked thoughtful, as he often did.
“Well, you could do a theme program. It is Easter.”
Amy curled her lip. “Naw, I don’t want to be inserting religion into the nightly news.”
Harmon looked even more thoughtful. Amy was about to thank him and walk away when he offered, “Well, how ‘bout nonreligious things related to Easter, like chocolate or eggs?”
Amy brightened. “Could do.” She pondered the idea. “We could look at chocolate sales this week, compare it to last year. Are people eating more chocolate…”
“Yep. And I’ve got a bunch of stuff on the poultry industry you could use,” Harmon added.
That’s when Amy’s problems began. She had accepted the poultry literature from Harmon just to be nice. She had no intention of reeling off facts about chickens and eggs. Amy preferred the chocolate angle. But she leafed quickly through the material just to have a look. Then she saw it.
“The fascinating egg is uniquely constructed to support a significant amount of external pressure. When equal pressure is applied to the eggshell, it can withstand up to 75 pounds per square inch. This is more pressure than even the strongest person could generate. Put simply, you cannot crush an egg in your hand.”
There followed an illustration of the correct way to hold an egg when testing its awesome powers.
“No way.”
Amy couldn’t wait to test out this new information. She walked down the street, bought a dozen eggs at the Co-op, brought them back to the station and did her test right there in the parking lot. Fully expecting to ruin her blouse with egg yolk, Amy squeezed, and squeezed harder. Nothing. She couldn’t break the egg.
This is cool. She ran into the station and had Louise try. Same result!
That night on the newscast Amy proudly announced her discovery. As expected, there wasn’t much ‘real’ news, so Amy had plenty of time for the egg demonstration. After reading reports on a local brush fire and a few Nebraska wire stories, Amy launched into her Easter Egg theme segment.
“As fragile as the egg may seem, you might be surprised to learn that you cannot break one in your hand.”
Amy took the egg she had been holding in her lap and placed it on the set. Stewart the cameraman struggled valiantly to follow the action.
“It’s true,” Amy continued. “The egg is designed to support the weight of chickens that can weigh up to 25 pounds.”
Stewart attempted to zoom in on the egg. It became a white blur on TV sets across western Nebraska.
“Although it’s easy to crack an egg by a sharp blow to one point — as any cook will tell you — the egg can withstand a tremendous amount of pressure if applied evenly.”
Amy was ad-libbing the whole thing and having a great time. She placed the egg in the palm of her hand. She squeezed. The egg remained intact. Stewart zoomed in again to reveal Amy’s knuckles turning white as she attempted to crush the egg.
Triumphantly she declared, “See! You can’t crush an egg in your hand! Try it yourself and see.”
She smiled broadly and laid the egg aside.
“Let’s take a quick look at the weather.”
Amy rattled off the temperatures, plowed through a few sports stories and wrapped up the newscast.
“That’s all for now. On behalf of the KBLF staff, have a happy Easter!”
Another broad smile, some paper shuffling and she was off the air. Amy unclipped her microphone and walked through the studio door into the darkened office. All four telephone lines were blinking. She smiled again. Viewers calling! She punched line 1.
“KBLF.”
“What kind of a joke are you trying to play?” a harsh, curt male voice demanded. “I just got egg yolk all over my couch, carpet, everywhere. Do you want to come clean it up?”
Amy was dumbstruck. She didn’t reply.
“That’s outrageous,” the caller continued. “I believed the whole thing. You’re putrid.”
Amy sought words. The man hung up. The other phone lines blinked furiously. Amy stood in the empty office, motionless. A wave of dread and panic swept over her. After 30 seconds she slowly punched another button.
“KBLF.”
“Amy.” It was the voice of Bob Bassett, the general manager.
“I’ve been getting calls from people who say you encouraged them to smash eggs in their living rooms. What did you do?”
“Um…” Amy stammered. “I did a demonstration. You can’t crush an egg if you place it in the palm of your hand. I showed people on the air.”
“Well, apparently eggs in Scottsbluff are very easy to crush.”
There was a pause.
“Look, Mr. Bassett, this wasn’t a trick or anything. I read it in a book. If you apply equal pressure…”
“No doubt. But the book probably didn’t mention what happens if the person is wearing a ring, or if the egg has a tiny crack. I’ve known about this silly fact since I was a boy. But I’d never encourage viewers to try it in their family rooms!”
Amy crumpled into a chair in the dark office. She sighed.
“I’m sorry. I thought it was a good way to fill time.”
“It was not. You will apologize on the air tomorrow.”
“Okay.”
Bassett hung up. Amy sat motionless. The lights on the phone continued to blink accusingly.
Peter Maize has been a journalist and relief and development worker in Asia for the past 35 years. He has published 2 novels (Zoom Out in 2005 and Nine Dragons Belly Up in 2010). He currently writes short fiction and articles for publications ranging from Business Insider to Thrillist.
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