By: Alan Donenfeld
Once upon a time there was a very pleasant village by the sea with one diner. The diner's menu offered only one selection:
"One Fresh Egg (boiled, fried, or scrambled)"
Diners had more than enough to eat and they were consuming sufficient protein. It appeared to be a perfectly satisfying eggxistence for all, eggxcept for some locals who quietly grumbled that they believed they were entitled to eggxtract more protein from the diner.
There was also a goose who lived in the village, and he had spent many years acquiring more and more pieces of land to poop on, although few took much notice. Villagers also largely ignored the bottom line, which is that there is more than one thing that can come out of the back side of a goose. And thus, one day, the goose made an announcement.
"I can provide you with Golden Eggs," he eggxclaimed. "People will come from far and wide to enjoy them. People will come when the days are hot and long and there is already a lineup out the diner door. And they will also come when the days are short and cold and no one else in their right mind would plan an eggxcursion here. Because, as you can see, these are the eggxalted Magical Golden Eggs, and this is the Mother of all Goose pooposals.”
But of course, the goose had certain conditions. "My Golden Eggs cannot be boiled or fried or scrambled. My eggxperts insist that the Golden Eggs must be served deviled, poached, and pickled, or as omelets, quiche, or meringue."
The villagers were invited to closely eggxamine the proposal, but truthfully most people took nary a gander at the details because they had already decided in advance whether this proposal was good for some, good for all, or just good for the goose. After all, as has always been the case, some people prefer just a bit of sauce thank you, while others do prefer to smother their plate with gravy, and it is eggxasperatingly difficult if not impossible to convince people to change such preferences.
Many villagers were very eggxcited because they saw they could now feather their nests and end up with eggxtra protein. They flocked together to support the goose's proposal.
Many others eggxpressed some reservations, but they were prepared to listen further.
Still others believed the offer quite eggregious. They thought that the goose had stepped over a line. "We won't march in goosestep!" they shouted. The villagers determined the goose and his idea to be eggxtremely deranged, and it was their intention to eggxpel the goose from the village. And thenceforth they embarked upon what was necessarily a wild goose chase.
But the goose had been eggxpecting these goose bumps, and he squawked back quite arreggantly, "I am the source of the Golden Eggs, so I will decide the menu. I am not interested in your eggxpectations. Either eggree to my terms or I will eggxit the neggotiations, and instead of my Golden Eggs you will end up going home with a big goose egg. Rest assured, I am not a silly little goose and I am quite done yolking around with you local yokels."
This difference of opinion caused a permanent crack to appear in the village community, and from that day on everyone in the village was forever destined to walk on eggshells.
No one knows what ever became of the village, but reggardless of whether or not the villagers did choose the Golden Egg, the moral of the story is clear: When one's village is already Eggxquisitely Golden, Geese and Villagers alike should be wary of giving or receiving gift baskets of Golden Eggs, lest one end up with their goose cooked or egg on their face.