Once upon a time, a king called Midas was cross with his daughter.
You see, something everyone knew about Midas (at least, he thought everyone knew) was that he preferred his eggs, and thus his omelets, a little runny.
But when his daughter presented him with the omelet she had made, it had practically crispy edges.
Turned out his daughter preferred her omelets a little less runny.
So he threw the plate to the ground and stormed away, stomping about the palace, kicking and breaking things, and yelling at anyone who crossed his path.
Finally, the cook agreed to make him an omelet, just the way he liked it. While he cooked, he tried to talk some sense into the mad king.
“Everyone has different tastes, sir,” he tried. “I’m sure the princess meant no harm.”
The king was unimpressed.
“Different tastes are wrong!” he cried. “Only runny omelets are worth eating! I wish I could eat nothing but runny omelets! I wish everything I touched turned into runny omelets!”
Which was, of course, the sort of wish that should never be uttered aloud.
The next morning, King Midas woke up on a runny omelet, with his resting on what might have been the same, or an all together different runny omelet.
He gingerly climbed out of bed onto the floor, which practically melted beneath his feet. He tried to slip into his kingly robe, but it melted and fell to the floor in a delicious heap.
At first, it was sort of fun. But King Midas soon grew full, and was tired of the squelchy smelly mess his home was becoming.
Beyond the palace, things were normal, at least until the king swept through on his daily parade. Roads. houses, horses and cars turned into eggs and cheese and milk. Even a mountainside, which the king rested on without thinking, melted away into an avalanche.
The king went home, wishing he could ask his daughter what to do. He wished he hadn’t tried to wake her up that morning by shaking her shoulders.
But suddenly, he knew what he had to do. He slipped on shoes and gloves of egg and began to eat. He ate and ate until almost every trace of the avalanche, and probably some of his palace was gone, and finally he groaned and announced, “Enough! I have had enough runny omelet!”
All around him, trees and birds and dogs appeared. Houses returned. Midas rushed home and hugged his daughter. He made her a crispy omelet, and they never fought over breakfast again.
The End.
Source: King Midas, Greek Myth
