I really quite enjoy doing the weekly grocery shop. It’s a great chance to get out of the house, and people watching is always fun. I attack the supermarket with ferocity - I try my hardest to pick avocados of perfect density, loaves of bread fresh from the oven, and cartons of milk with incalculable lifespans. I came home this evening with a bounty of faultless goods. ‘That multinational chain just lost out,’ I thought, as I packed the items into my kitchen. I reached into the last bag contentedly; this was to be the final piece of the perfect shop: a dozen eggs. ‘Fuck’ – I’d forgotten to check the shells for irregularities. I threw the dull coloured carton on the kitchen bench and whipped it open. When I look back and consider the likelihood of what happened next I’m lost for words. It was a one in a million chance. I stared down at the open carton to see 24 fresh farm eggs. Both the lid and base were filled with identical specimens. I wasn’t paying close attention so I don’t know how it occurred; it must’ve been perfect conditions for the scientific rarity – cell duplication. At the time I was more concerned with the second dozen. I couldn’t close the carton until they were gone. I settled for a twelve-egg omelette.