Political Eggs: A Strand of Thrand

    “You don’t understand the principal of the thing,” said Grawnich, frowning. “If you had thirty eggs …”

          “Mog love you, sir, I don’t think I could eat thirty eggs afore they went bad.”

          “Quiet! You don’t have to. If you had thirty eggs and twenty-nine starving companions, you could divide the eggs up so you all had something to eat, and nobody would have to beg or rob.”

“Begging your pardon, but yes, they would. Hardly anybody can get by on one egg a day. And even if they could, you’d need thirty eggs the next day, wouldn’t you? There’d be no end to it. I know if Bold Brok had only an egg a day he’d still be out tapping citizens on the head, trying to supplement his income, as it were.”

Grawnich rolled his eyes.

“This is just a political example! Thirty eggs …”

“You know, all this talk of eggs is making me hungry again,” Kettle interrupted. “Do you think I could have a few? Fried in bacon fat, if possible.”

“I tell you the eggs are hypothetical!” Grawnich exploded. Kettle looked blank. “Theoretical! Assumed! Proposed! Imaginary!” The young Morg looked inquisitively over at Thrand for clarification.

“Lies,” Thrand explained kindly.

Kettle frowned.

“You shouldn’t go around offerin’ folks no eggs until you’ve got a system worked out proper, and if you ain’t got the eggs on you.”

Grawnich rubbed his temple with a skinny claw.

“I wouldn’t be giving out the eggs,” he ground out. “It would be the government!”

“They’ve got some sort of giant henhouse, have they?”

“No, they do not!”

“Not unless you count taxes,” Thrand grinned. “In that case, there’s at least plenty of plucking going on.”

Grawnich groaned.