Betraying Your Kind

These cute faces seen in the supermarket might make you think twice about eating the meat balls within. Granted they are just cartoon drawings...

I imagine if it were a real animal, the smart feller could have struck a deal with the butcher or farmer.

Farmer: (cocks his rifle) Come out, come out, wherever you are!

Chicken: (emerging from the shadows) Hey Mr. Man, you don't have to do this.

Farmer: (taking aim) Oh yes I do...

Chicken: Can't we talk about this?

Farmer: Talk!? (lowers his rifle) What has that ever achieved?

Chicken: Well, peace and harmony?

Farmer: (lets rip a sinister laugh) That's all very nice, chicken. But it won't feed ma' family. (raises his gun again)

Chicken: Ok ok. (panics) What if, what if I told you where all the rest are hiding?

Farmer: (stunned, lowers his gun again) Go on.

Chicken: And you can feed your family with whatever you want to do with them.

Farmer: (still wondering) Yeah, yeah, kill 'em all -

Chicken: Ok no need to get graphic here. (swallows his fear) And after that, I'll just... go my merry way.

Farmer: (realises) Oh! You wanna strike a deal... With me!

Chicken: (forces a laugh) Yes yes. I knew you would understand. You're smart.

Farmer: Now ain't that somethin'?

Chicken: (shrugs) Hey, a chicken's gotta do what a chicken's gotta do...

Farmer: (contemplates for a few more seconds) Hmm, okay chicken. You win.

Chicken: Oh thank you, Mr. Man -

Farmer: But I want one more thing.

Chicken: Of course. Anything.

Farmer: Your picture. On ma' boxes. Where your friends will be.

Chicken: (appalled) You mean -

Farmer: Y'know, I been thinkin'. I gotta sell it and people gotta know what's inside. Your ugly mug is just what I need.

Chicken: But will everyone know I'm the... you know... the -

Farmer: Traitor? Betrayer? (sniggers) Judas?

Chicken: What's a Judas?

Farmer: (takes out a camera from his back pocket) He sold Jesus out.

Chicken: What's a Jesus? (realises, eyes widen) Were they the previous chickens on your farm?

Farmer: (points his camera at the chicken) Flash me your best smile.

(Chicken forces a smile. The picture is taken. The farmer throws him a satisfied victorious grin.)

Farmer: So tell me where they are. All. Of. Them.

Chicken: (points to the shadows, overwhelmed by guilt and shame) Please don't tell them it was me.

Farmer: I don't have to.

(The gleeful farmer heads to the shadows and the sad embarrassed chicken scampers away, far from the farm.)

That's the punishment of farm traitors. A constant reminder on all food packages containing those of their kind. Their exchange for survival. "Life is precious," they may think, "especially my own." What kind of life would it be though? Imagine if war criminals and traitors were treated as such. With their names and faces plastered on all the criminally obtained bags of gold or war-mongered barrels of oil.

Anyway, I find it heartbreaking yet hilarious that animals, cartoon or not, are most likely coerced into promoting eating their kind in supermarkets and fast food places. That was my initial point.