Egg Bites ( that are way better than Starbucks)

Today we're making breakfast egg bite cupcake quiche type nugget pies, also known as yellow velvet cake. The reason they're sometimes called egg bites is because you bite them, unlike an intravenous omelette or an enema scramble. We're going to crack six or seven eggs into a bowl. You can also crack them into a box if you want to have a bad time. If you have semi-permeable shells, you can just kind of throw them right through. Now we're going to add some salt, a couple dashes per egg. It's a myth that salting eggs in advance makes them tough. What makes eggs tough is putting them in karate class, telling them not to cry, making them run 10 laps, sending them to bed without dinner, and teaching them that feelings are wrong. That's how you make eggs tough, which we don't want, so make sure you treat them with love and respect, which we do by adding in some pepper pepper pepper. Now we'll take a perfectly lovely broccoli flower and reduce that into broccoli dust, or bigger pieces if you want. One fun thing is to make a broccoli cube, because that's against the laws of nature. Then you can see if you get away with it, or if mother nature strikes you down. Then we'll get some water boiling. Now scare that broccoli flock into your minnow net, then hold it over the aqua heater for around 300,000 milliseconds, aka five minutes. Then we'll sprinkle that into the eggs like green snow. Wow, it's Christmas somewhere bad! And tis the season to give that a good wang jangling. Then take out a sheet of cups and spray that with a force field. Then we'll pour that broccoli egg elixir into these matrix pods. Don't fill them up too full, because they're gonna expand like alien babies. Fun fact, muffin cups aren't tapered to make muffins easy to get out. They're tapered to make muffins look bigger, so they can charge you more money. The muffin industry is honestly worse than the mafia. They'll break your legs with a rolling pin. Don't ask me why muffin makers have rolling pins. Now we'll grab a cheese dismantler and start reducing it into wilder, freer, better, faster cheese pieces. When you add the cheese, just think about when you're shingling your roof, and you need around nine nails to finish the job before you can knock off and grab a cold one. That's about how much cheese you need, more or less. Alright boys, we're done here. Except we're not done here, because now we'll throw them in the volcano cube for around 13 to 18 minutes. Once they puff up to maximum altitude, they're done. You can easily determine maximum altitude by taking a level, attaching it to a tripod, pointing it towards the muffins, adjusting the height to make it perfect, attach a string and extend that towards the endo, making sure it's perfectly level, and by then around 13 minutes should have passed, so you should be good. Then you can slide them out. If they're still jiggly, they're not done, they're just having a good time. Oh yeah, this recipe is in my book, but don't feel like you have to buy my book. We're gonna crack more eggs. Use a bigger piece of shell for the operation. Crisis averted. Salt. Triple P. Wangjanglify. Take a tomato, use a magnifying glass to dry it out, chop those up, grab a big chive and smash that into smaller ones, then smash one of those into smaller ones, chop some of those up, crumble in some feta cheese, not to be confused with fetish cheese. Wangjangle. Spray on some seasonal snowfall, then pour those ingredients into the open-air baking prison cells, redeploy the floaty things more evenly, toss them in the hell box, and bam, more egg bites. But we're not done, friends. Yet again, more eggs. Salt. Triple P. Ham. Green onion. Asiago. Wangjang. Thank you, man. The reason the shredded cheese goes inside this one instead of on top is a mystery. Spray on some spray, pour the goop into the thing, throw the thing into the cold reducer, and bam, even more muffins that are definitely not muffins. Now we have an assortment of beautiful breakfast muffin-type things. Only thing left to do is spread mayonnaise on them and trick your kids into thinking they're frosted cupcakes. Mmm. Douglas, I'm worried. Worried about what? I'm worried he might never finish this damn se-