Summary: An egg catches the Birds in a dastardly scheme. They must take their revenge by public humiliation. There will be no escape.
An egg stands up on the stage by the corner of the road, adjusting his tie. He's ready to campaign. It'll be the biggest advance in politics in the history of politics. It'll be the crowning achievement of his whole career. His magnum opus.
By the end of the day, he will have passed his referendum.
"If you think poutine is great, sign here!"
The masses turn as one. For one time-stopping moment, the egg knows he has their attention, and he intends to use it. They see nothing but an innocent man in a tie, gesturing at a sheet of paper on the board. Several neon arrows flash to make it extra clear.
Indeed, it does say, Poutine appreciation board!
Noodle Bird immediately brandishes her pen and signs the sheet.
"Yes! Poutine is so good!" Soup wastes no time, pushing through the crowd to have his voice heard.
"Yes!" Bread Bird practically throws himself in front of the paper to put his name down.
Other passersby stop to sign their support for the rich food. The egg smiles. All according to plan.
"Fantastic." Once he reaches seven signatures, it's over. He studies the list of names, smirking. They don't know.
Slowly, in front of the star-struck poutine fans, the egg peels off the tape on his sheet to reveal the actual title of the signature sheet:
IB appreciation board!
Instantly, the crowd roars in outrage. The sight of their dedication to the best food ever being turned to an advertisement for some snooty high school program drives them into a frenzy.
"BAN HIM!"
"THIS TREACHERY!"
The egg takes a step back, wiping sweat off of his forehead. Perhaps he should have secured himself before unveiling his scam political maneuver.
"Yo yo yo what! I got scammed!" Soup's anger is palpable and it rouses the crowd to further raise their pitchforks. "I can prove my innocence though!" He waves a picture of the paper from before the egg turned traitor. "I said poutine!"
Faced with unmistakably the truth, people begin to settle down, knowing that this egg will be made a fool of in the news. Unfortunately for him, he has yet to leave the frying pan yet. "But this egg," Soup turns to face him, eyes blazing. "He needs to stand on trial."
"We must stand him on trial!" Bread cheers.
"For high crimes!"
"Yes!" Soup roars. There is nothing but passion now, passion and hatred for the egg who dared to bait their beloved food.
"I wanna be the judge, jury, and executioner!" Noodle shouts.
"This is unprecedented," Soup declares, spreading his arms. Somehow, he's made it to the stage and has found a soapbox to stand on.
"We must make a witch trial for his crimes!" Bread joins him on the stage. "I propose we open a court!" Someone lugs a judge's desk in front of him as he and Soup put on their judicial gowns.
Noodle raises her hand. "I propose scrambled eggs!"
The egg pales.
"I second!" says Brandy.
"Yes," Soup nods, considering the motion. "That's good…but isn't boiling him better?"
The egg wrinkles his nose. "Ew. Boiled egg."
"Scramble him with ketchup…" Bread muses, stroking his fake white beard. Almost immediately, the enthusiasm becomes mixed.
"What the fuck?" Noodle questions Bread's age. "Who puts ketchup on scrambled eggs?"
Bread tries to get the trial back on track, but somehow persistent, no-wrong-answer controversies must take precedent.
The egg sees an opportunity. He squints knowingly, waiting for his moment to strike.
"Yes!" Brandy waves his arms harder. "Scrambled eggs and ketchup are good!"
"And pepper!" the egg helpfully adds. "IKEA breakfast." The egg's carefully crafted statement suddenly turns the people's attention away. Bread glares at him, about to strike the gavel for order, but to his shock, the small hammer suddenly disappears. The chattering among the people grows.
"Oh, okay." Noodle nods. "Should we add salt?"
Much to his horror, Bread finds himself thinking about the concept. "IKEA meatballs?" he gasps, realising the egg's plan. He shakes his head rapidly to rid himself of the tangent. Seeing the audience's anger begin to decline, Bread comes to a decision. "We hold another trial!" he declares, trying to speak over everyone else.
It's no use. The unified front has broken down, killed by infighting and squabbling over meaningless, irrelevant topics. Already his judge's chair and gown have been returned to their original owners.
The egg's injustice will go unpunished. He confidently strides away, knowing that there is no one who can stop him now. He holds power now that he's no longer the centre of attention.
Bread desperately reaches out, trying to rip the signature sheet out of the egg's hand, but someone from the crowd pulls him back. As he's questioned about drugs and integration, he looks helplessly to the egg who ruined them all.
Bread clenches his fist. He will not forget this. One day, he will have his revenge. His heart has hardened. From this day onward, no longer will he sign any such "poutine appreciation board". No longer will he trust others so unconditionally. The egg has done something that he will never forget, destroyed something inside Bread that will never return.
A single tear falls from the side of his cheek.