We Tried A Boiled Egg Daniel Radcliffe Made
Most of you know him from his role in the Harry Potter series, and some of you know him from that movie where he’s dead and he washes up on some deserted island I think? I don’t know, I haven’t finished it yet. But most of you probably don’t know him for his real passion: boiling eggs. That’s right. Daniel Radcliffe (or Radders as his mom calls him) is a self-professed egg expert, and he invited me to his home to try one of his world-famous boiled eggs.
When I get to his house, his mother takes me into the kitchen where Daniel is so focused he fails to acknowledge me. His mom clears her throat and introduces me for a second time. Daniel waves me over to his breakfast table, and as he adjusts his robe, he says, “I hope you’re hungry for some very edible eggs.” Even though the robe is tied in the front you can kinda see his pubes. It’s early afternoon, but his mother later tells me that Daniel has been boiling eggs since 6 A.M.
Daniel places a dozen or more large boiled eggs on a dish in front of me. “It’s better if you take the skin off first but I just couldn’t be bothered,” he says. As I take the shell off the first egg, I attempt to make small talk, but he reaches across the table and places his finger on my lips. “Shut the fuck up and eat all of these eggs,” he whispers.
The shell removed, I notice the egg has a not-so-subtle discoloration. I look up at Daniel as he shifts anxiously in his seat, his teeth gritted together. “Bite into it immediately,” he demands. Nervously, I do, and Daniel nods with excitement.
It’s disgusting. The smell is like decomposing roadkill. It was like biting into a yeti’s shit and I gagged, bringing it back up instantly. Daniel then informs me that this batch was from 2010. Visibly unsettled, I ask Daniel if I can trouble him for a glass of water. He walks over to the stove and pours the boiling water from one of the saucepans and hurries back to me with an overflowing Harry Potter mug. I take a sip and I vomit again.
Things Only Got Worse from There
I excuse myself from the table and Daniel erupts in anger. He calls me a coward and tells me to get the fuck out of his house, making me sign a document promising that I’ll never watch any of the Harry Potter movies ever again. I’m pelted with eggs as I sign it, then ushered to the door by his mom, who advises me to seek medical attention if I ate any of the eggs marked with an ‘X.’
“The feds are still sniffing around after that last one,” she says as she shuts the door behind me.
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