Ain't Nobody Here but Us Chickens: The Story of the Bad Egg

I recently joined a swap group on facebook and have been enjoying trading some garden goodies for homemade soap and homegrown chicken eggs. They are happy blue and brown eggs with deep yellow yolks and I love them. Jeff is very partial to a hard-boiled egg in his lunch. So partial, in fact, that I have to ration him to one a day. Not that he pays much attention to my rules!

I arrived home this afternoon after a busy day of leading music therapy groups, hanging with grandkids, and teaching piano lessons. I walked through the door and my nose was assaulted with a peculiar stench. I followed the afore-mentioned olfactory organ around the kitchen, searching for the source of the putridity. Neither the rubbish bin nor the compost bucket yielded any clues, so I hastened out to the music room to teach the last lesson of the day.

When all was done, I returned to the kitchen and immediately noticed a strange-looking egg sitting on the counter. I fear this egg may have been hiding in the chicken coop for a few days before it was found. 

I called out to Jeff, who was hiding in the back of the house, to ask why there was a half-peeled rotten egg sitting on my counter.

I wasn't sure if it was okay to eat, he replied.

Really?

I whisked it out to the compost bin before you could say sunny side up and there it sits.

So tell me.
Would you entertain, even for a second, the thought of eating this egg?