Perhaps

Your addled brain reels as you close your eyes to avoid witnessing the eggy destruction of your second female family member in as many minutes.

You hear a quiet thump.

No crack?

You slowly open your eyes and creep toward the pile on the floor. Then you breathe a sigh of relief.

As tiny as your mother's bikini is, it has succeeded in catching and cushioning the fall of her now-fragile body.

Carefully, gingerly, you lift your mother out of her former outfit and carry her to the refrigerator, where you place her in the egg tray. After you close the door, you turn to regard the wreckage of your sister Zoe.

You sigh and begin gathering the pieces of her shell that you can find, carrying them to the spot on the counter where most of her fluid innards appear to have pooled.