Though egg gone eyes zing memory to reek hall, I hoop to communicate what might seem like scrambled gobbledygook. Details of following peck yule your anecdote generally linkedin to my attendance at Henry Kline Boyer Elementary scores of decades ago, since repurposed into...what else a Play & Learn Preschool.
     Oh...hen also please eggs 'cept me humble apology if ma chicken scratch induces abdominal distress, kindles nausea, or trumpets uber vomiting. Now lyft up your head. Believe me you, this ole fogie will avoid extremely graphic minutiae (meaning no bloody violence) to shell shock thee anonymous reader.
    Circa late nineteen sixties during third, fourth, fifth, or sixth grade at aforementioned educational facility. This happens tubby moost clear cut general time frame following scenario remembered. As yours truly gets older, his remembrance of things past re: seed at an exponential rate.
     Envision kids between late childhood and early prepubescence, and one solitary, mite size introverted boy. That would me then, and good n plenti number of years up till recent past. As a painfully shy lad, not a peep uttered by this pipsqueak. That slip of human fledgling (yepper me again) weighed approximately equivalent to baker's dozen total pounds times average sized cooped up chicken.
     Reference to poultry significant, not merely to fluff up my figurative literary tail feathers. Vague recollection cannot zero in on particular aspects. What does remain steadfast within mind of this aging baby boomer constitutes nasty smell emanating from rotten egg buried deep within desk housing academic materiel thrown helter skelter. Chaos ran rampant wherever I happened to situate mine scrappy morsel self, his highness and scrawny heinie barely perceptible to the naked eye.
     Many unanswered questions abound to this day, asper the how, when, why... said foul egg never tossed out. An enigma that no teacher, nope not Missus Wells, Mister Stoudt, Missus Shaner, nor thee then lovely Miss Rita Rinderle, (whichever one apropos at that petticoat junction, thus every possible instructor listed). Months elapsed, while putrid odor wafted out miniature landfill. No doubt classmates in near proximity detected wicked rotten egg smell. Matter of fact a song got written by Lynyrd Skynyrd aptly titled "That Smell" referencing nauseating jarring, fixating... issuing from horrid gross odoriferous rotten egg permeating the ole factory center.
     Though sealed within plastic sandwich bag, that unforgettable putrid unseen stench invariably wound into nostrils of one or unfortunate recipients, who would quickly turn green in the face, otherwise known as the Grinch syndrome.
     Actually, these tidbits of information based on numerous double blind esoteric experiments conducted during World War II as one of many veldt ruses to undermine Axis powers. Allies quite alarmed yes, (an understatement) to thwart, defeat, conquer enemy. Matter of Uncle Paul Ling dreamt up this (elementary my dear Watson) scheme after one of his then very intelligent "gifted,” we now call them" young daughters blurted out disseminating hydrogen sulfide spray via low flying jets overhead i.e. similar to crop dusters. Tactic birthed as commendable brainchild exceeded (by Dickens) great expectations.