I open my front door and step outside to check the temperature. The dawning sun coming up behind my house casts early morning sunbeams between houses onto a tree across the street. Part of the tree glows with color while part is in shadow. I have to grab my camera and take a picture. Of course, a photo doesn’t capture the incandescent quality and the subtle glow of light my eyes perceive. A photo doesn’t capture the ruddy intensity I see. A photo is just a picture.
But now it’s time to make breakfast. I open a carton of eggs and … what’s this? A mutant egg! It has a little dome on one end. Weird.
Why would a hen lay a mutant egg? Was it a mutant hen? Will eating a mutant egg harm me? Will it endow me with super-powers? Because frankly, I wouldn’t mind having some super-powers, especially if it means I get to hang out with Jessica Alba (Sue Storm, one of the Fantastic Four, remember?) I break the egg into a bowl. It looks ok. It smells ok. I cook it and eat it. It tastes ok. I don’t feel any different. Yet. I guess it didn’t give me super-powers after all. But when you next see me, if I have horns or a tail or I’m growing scales or I’m green, you’ll know why. On the other hand, it’s possible I’ll have x-ray vision or super-strength or super-speed. I’m not telling.
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