The blue label fans now went wild. The crowd was ecstatic. Their team, their chefs were now the heroes. They threw in another piece and like starving dogs from the heartland of kambaland, they once again scrambled for the piece. They were wild. Hungry and wild. Curious to satisfy the insatiable need to know how men with public opinions felt when they ate the omelet. As fate would have it, it was the best thing they had tasted in their lives upto this point. They wanted more and they were willing to fight for it.
A third piece was thrown into the crowd and the scrambling started again. There wasn't enough and I had to get a taste. Then scramble turned into shoving and into vicious fighting. But I didn't care. I would rather hurt my neighbour. My needs came first anyway. Teamwork ends here.
Meanwhile, tangerines were having a problem. They hadn't made enough to distribute in the manner blue label were doing. And their oven was slower than that of their competition. So they now had to find a new strategy. They now turned the heat on blue label. Blue label had been stealing their eggs anyway. So the focus now turned to Blue label. The fans and the chefs all of them accusing blue label of unfair practice. The fans started shouting and wailing. I started shouting too along with my fellow tangerine fans. Then I threw a sponge into blue label's fans.
The sponge hit me. I got a mustard seed and threw it into the tangerine crowd in retaliation.
So began the acrimony.
So began the hate.
So began the war
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