Shakespearean Flash - 'Omlet (soliloquy): To beed or not to beed' By Joy Manne

To beed or not to beed, that is the question

Whether it is nobler in the pan to suffer

The twists and spites of vicious spatula

Or to fight against the cook

And by opposing him, to ruin, to flow no more; and solidifying, to congeal, to end

The heart-ache of unfulfilled ooze, those thousand natural shocks unconsummated

chickens are heir to. Tis a revenge devoutly to be wished. To ruin the texture,

to gel and to congeal: Ay, there’s the problem

for in the flow of life, what future may yet come,

once we have pecked out of our confining shell,

and wait for the respect

that gives a future to so short a life;

For why should we bear the whips and scorns of time:

The old hen, the rooster now out-roosted by the young;

The pangs of despised age, the butcher’s short delay,

The rough insults of the chicken-herd,

Being chased, and gathered up, and housed and forced to lay

When we could find release by rushing to

The fox’s sharp white teeth. Why bear the burden,

The scratching scraping work of bio free range

Through dread of after death becoming nuggets

In the yet to be discovered country of McDonalds

From whence no eater ever returns well; we do not understand

And so prefer the suffering we know

To that we only imagine

Thus confusion makes us cowards

Our brilliant feathers pale

the other makes the choice; we live or die, we’re egg or chicken.

We’ve thought it out too far

and now we don’t know what to do.

Very well then, let us flow and be unctuous

Let us flatter him

Just out of his hot nest of lust

Carousing before breakfast, making her an omlet

Or is it her lunch, or supper, or dinner

Are they feeding like a king or queen?

To beed or not to beed

That is the question

Shall we be consumed

or thrown away.