A dillicious adventure.

Despite his better judgement, C. hatched up the idea of biking over to the Decatur to try out their pickled eggs. We scrambled over there, and C. shelled out the dough for three PEs. (At first P. wasn't sure he wanted one, but we egged him on.) My camera-phone's poached, so I can't post a pic, but they looked eggsactly like hard-cooked eggs. Mine are supposed to come out brown on account of the liquid smoke.

Anyway, eating the eggs was eggcrutiatingly amusing. They were super vinegar-y, and stuck to your mouth. I'm a tad worried now, but I vow that my pickles will beat the Decatur's, or I'll be deviled.