The Great Egg Heist: How I Outsmarted My MIL’s Secret Side Hustle
At first, I thought I was imagining things. But every time I opened my fridge, something felt… off.
Eggs. Gone.
We rarely ate them—they were strictly for my kids since, let’s face it, eggs have practically become a luxury these days. But whenever my mother-in-law, Andrea, came over for a visit, I noticed more and more of them disappearing.
Coincidence? I wasn’t so sure.
So, I decided to set up a hidden camera. And what I discovered made my blood boil.
The Shocking Footage
The camera caught Andrea casually slipping eggs into her purse, then strolling right over to my neighbor, Mrs. Davis. And what did she do next?
She sold them.
That’s right—Andrea was running a black-market egg business with my groceries!
The next day, I casually asked Mrs. Davis where she was getting her eggs from.
“Oh, from your sweet MIL!” she beamed. “She has backyard chickens and sells them cheap—just four dollars a dozen!”
Four. Dollars.
Andrea had been stealing from me and making a profit.
A Plan for Justice
I was furious, but instead of confronting her right away, I decided to teach her a lesson she’d never forget.
I spent an hour carefully hollowing out an entire carton of eggs. Watching the golden yolks swirl down the drain was oddly satisfying. Then, I filled each empty shell with a fiery mixture of mustard and hot sauce.
As I worked, my husband, James, wandered into the kitchen, raising an eyebrow.
“Is that… mustard?”
“Justice,” I said without looking up. “Sweet, yellow justice.”
The trap was set.
The Perfect Setup
That weekend, Andrea showed up for her usual visit, greeting the kids and making small talk.
Then, just as expected, she made her way toward the kitchen.
I pretended to be distracted by Tommy’s homework while watching the live feed on my phone. There she was—grabbing the tampered eggs and stuffing them into her bag like always.
Moments later, she strolled out the back door, heading straight for Mrs. Davis.
I could barely contain my excitement.
The Mustard Explosion
That evening, I invited Andrea for tea on the back porch—the perfect spot to view Mrs. Davis’s kitchen window.
We sat sipping our drinks as Mrs. Davis prepared to bake. I watched as she cracked an egg into a mixing bowl…
And then—
A bloodcurdling scream.
Bright yellow mustard and hot sauce exploded from the egg, splattering her hands and counter.
Andrea nearly choked on her tea. “What on earth?”
Before I could respond, a furious pounding shook our front door.
When I opened it, there stood Mrs. Davis, hands dripping with mustard, her face flushed with rage.
“The eggs!” she sputtered. “They were filled with… with…”
“Eggs?” I asked, feigning innocence. “Oh, you mean the ones you bought from Andrea?”
Andrea’s face drained of color as Mrs. Davis turned on her.
“You sold me fake eggs? I told everyone at my bridge club about your so-called ‘farm-fresh’ eggs!”
Andrea stammered. “I—I didn’t—”
“Did you steal them from Rebecca?”
Silence.
Mrs. Davis let out an exasperated sigh, muttered something about never trusting “city chickens” again, and stormed out, slamming the door behind her.
Andrea, now a deep shade of crimson, grabbed her purse and bolted, leaving her half-finished tea behind.
The Aftermath
That night, when James got home and I told him what happened, he doubled over laughing.
“That’s what you were doing with the mustard and hot sauce?” he gasped. “That’s both genius and terrifying. Note to self: never steal from you.”
Since then, my eggs have stayed exactly where they belong—in my fridge.
Andrea never mentioned the incident again, and Mrs. Davis found a new supplier.
But sometimes, when I put away my groceries, I can’t help but smile.
Because there’s nothing more satisfying than catching a thief red-handed… or mustard-covered.