The old, cranky lawyer had knocked on his door,
the will, the testament of his half-brother has been probated.
Luxury cars and the Caribbean was on his mind,
Resigned he did from his current job,
for he believed a thousand bucks would be a penny after this day.
So off he drove to his brother’s mansion,
with the old, cranky lawyer as his companion.
He was led to this half-opened elegantly furnished door,
from the edges of which golden beams escaped.
He couldn’t contain the excitement that his heart carries
and rushed towards the light source.
He grabbed one egg and felt that something is quite not right.
The egg had little craters and weren’t fragile at all.
The old, cranky lawyer whispered,
“He said you loved french fries,” and he walked snickering,
“Don’t count your golden eggs before they hatch, my boy for they might not be eggs at all.”