The Perfect Omelet is Hard to Make

You start with the eggs. Three in this case. You gently crack them on the side of your clean, ceramic bowl that you laid out for just this purpose. Once the eggs are cracked, dispose of the shells. Be careful you didn’t leave any shell remnants behind. Grab your beater, and – 

Where did that stupid beater go? Everything was supposed to be set up! It’s not on the counter top. Maybe the dishwasher? No dice. The utensils drawer? No! It must’ve been placed in the wrong spot. Time to start searching every drawer.

Found it! It took five drawers, but there it is! That made a lot of noise. Stop and listen.

Silence.

The meal isn’t spoiled. Time to resume.

Be careful you didn’t leave any shell remnants behind. Grab your beater, and gently massage the eggs together, breaking the yolks, creating a smooth, yellow mixture. This is the base of your omelet. Now is a good time to start heating up the pan. Turn your stove to medium; too high, and you can’t control how the omelet cooks.

Click. Click. Click, click, click, click, click.

Nothing.

The pilot is out. Even the best laid plans, and all that. Easy fix, though. The lighter is always next to the fridge, as it is today. A few pulls of the trigger, and whoosh! The burner is lit.

A noise from upstairs. Wait.

Wait.

Wait.

Nothing. Continue.

Turn your stove to medium; too high, and you can’t control how the omelet cooks. Have your fillings at the ready. In this case: ham, cheese, peppers, and onions, all pre-chopped.

What happened? There’s a whole onion here. It wasn’t chopped? What a pain. The knife is in the sink, used late last night. Filthy. Time to clean it, then chop the onion. Thankfully, the acidic juice has no effect.

All of the cleaning and chopping made so much noise. Is it ruined? No noise; no movement. All is well. Finish.

Have your fillings at the ready. With the pan nice and hot - and no sooner - pour the eggs into the pan. Wait just a beat, then add the fillings. Now is the time to be patient. You must wait until the base is cooked, and firm. Not too long, or the omelet will burn. When it’s time, gently fold the omelet in half.

Burnt. The smell practically gave it away before the flip, but here it is. A ruined omelet. What a nightmare. 

Take a moment. Breathe. It can be started over. There’s time.

You start with the eggs. Two in this case. Crack them on the side of your bowl. Once the eggs are cracked, dispose of the shells. Grab your beater, and mix the eggs together. Turn your stove to medium. Chop your desired fillings while you wait for the pan to heat. In this case: ham and cheese. When the pan is hot, pour the eggs into the pan. Wait just a beat, then add the fillings. Have patience, and when the base of the omelet is solid, fold it in half.

It broke. What was once a beautiful, three-egg omelet is a disgusting two-egg mess mixed with ham and cheese. This can’t be served. It is simply not good enough. One more try.

One egg left. This is terrible. Oh well, it will have to be good enough.

You start with the egg. Crack it – 

There is egg all over the floor. It was hard to hold, considering the circumstances. The rage at such failure. It’s unbecoming. Not a way to cook breakfast. 

Breathe. In. Out. In. Out.

A noise upstairs. No doubt about it. Time has run out. 

When you try to cook a perfect omelet to kick off a perfect day, things will inevitably go wrong. The best planning can be undone by a misplaced utensil, or a stove that burns way too Goddamn hot. No worries, as long as you have a backup plan, everything will be alright.

Grab the knife from the counter. Yes, the very same one you just used to chop onions, even though you were pretty fucking sure you chopped them earlier. It doesn’t matter; that’s behind you now. Approach the stairs and listen again. There’s going to be movement, but as long as it is still coming from the bedroom, you are fine.

With the knife held pointing down – safety first – climb the stairs. You may find it more productive to move slowly and loudly. If you do so, the noises in the room will intensify. You did a good job, and everything should be ok.

Slowly turn the door handle, and let the door swing itself open. This is the part for you to enjoy. It’s early in the morning; the sun may make it hard to see you. That’s perfect. She’ll start whimpering. She can’t make a noise because of the gag, which you stuffed thoroughly into her mouth, making sure it lived up to its name.

She’ll panic, and try to struggle as you approach her. Get ready, the time for patience is over. Remove the gag for the best result. She’ll cry and plead, but it won’t matter. She was going to have the greatest fucking three egg omelet in her whole life. She’ll never know what she missed out on. She MUST never know.

Let the knife slide into her stomach slowly. She will yell louder than she ever has before, even when you had to throw her down the stairs that one time she tried to escape. You’ll want to keep the hand holding the knife steady, as she’ll buck about, but you don’t want to accidentally slice her open. Remove the knife, and go again.

And again.

And again.

And again.

When blood has thoroughly stained the bed, pooled so thick that it is dripping off the sheets onto the floor, take a step back. You’ve no doubt gotten your hands dirty, but these things require effort. There’s no way around it. Wipe the knife off and toss it in the sink, to be cleaned later.

How did it come out? Is the omelet perfectly cooked on all sides? Is the cheese melted all the way through, holding the delicious meat and veggies in place? If so, excellent! Celebrate your hard work, and make sure to savor the end result.

Did you fail? Did the omelet burn? Did it fall apart? Did you break the last egg in the carton? No worries. Just remember, there are plenty more eggs in the basement.