The Lunchtime Eagle

By the Umbrella

It’s a familiar scene, isn’t it. You are a grand and noble soldier, or a knight of old, with

sword and shield in hand and with the fierce allure of battle upon you (or, to be more

precise, on top of you), enriched with the history of a thousand and two years, charging

atop your mostly loyal steed, about to deal the furious blow that will change

your as of now bleak fortunes, and spire you into the glorious prospect of gaining praise

and honor for your hard-mustered valour. You spot your sworn enemy, atop his horse,

and are just about to bring down your blade and cleave off clean his head, your eyes

flashing, your heart beating, your mind swirling with such giddyish ideas of defeating

your enemy once and for all, when suddenly…

“Lunch time!”

And…all hope is lost. And all glorious thoughts are rudely escorted out of the premises

of your poor mind. And now, you have to stop what you’re doing, sullenly get off your

steed, and tell your until-now sworn enemy that you intend to fall to, and would he very

kindly be willing to supp (or lunch) with you?

Probably one of the most ironic moments in the entire battle. And truly disappointing.

***

Throughout the centuries, historians, philosophers, and esteemed thinkers have all

pondered the phenomenon of the so-called lunch time eagle and its significance in the

shaping of historical times. How many times, so the historians must have mused in the

dark chamber of their thoughts, have kings been saved or killed, battles lost, empires

won, kingdoms crushed down or rudely taken up by another, because of this mysterious

eagle’s call to lunch?

And bye-the-bye, whether the name “lunch-time-eagle” is meant to be an expression of

scorn or an affectionate name, that remains to be seen. But no matter how the thinkers

explain it, all agree that, in regards to the battlefield itself, what happens, as far as they

can tell, is this. The two sides fight as hard as two sides can possibly fight (if that’s even

possible). Time is forgotten; after all, nobody—ever—bothers or even thinks of checking

his watch while sword-fighting with enemy soldiers. It seems obvious, but I hope people

realize that. I mean, it’s scandalous to even think of checking your watch when what

you’re supposed to be doing is engaging in deeds of valour—and any-hoo, to put it

bluntly, it’s plain dangerous. But anyway, time is utterly forgotten within the course of a

battle. And then suddenly, lo and behold, the lunch-time eagle comes hovering o’er the

sky and cries out with a loud voice two utterly life-changing words: “lunch-time!” and

everyone, whether reluctantly or no, stops fighting and eats lunch, while at the same

time suddenly remembering exactly what the time is. It’s funny, because this

phenomenon only happens during battles.

At best, the lunchtime eagle is a nuisance. At worst, he has the capacity to literally ruin

the prospects of victory in battle.

And the question remains: what is to be done about it? Well, simply put, there isn’t

much that can be done about it. We can’t tell the lunchtime eagle to please stop saying

it’s lunch time, for two reasons: first, because I don’t think soldiers in battle want to fight

all day without lunch. And second, and more importantly, because the lunchtime eagle

will simply not comply. And we can’t just tell the soldiers to ignore the eagle, because

when the call for lunch comes, the soldiers on the enemy side will stop fighting, and

then it would be an unjust war. And we can’t just try to make a global consensus on the

issue, because there’s no reason to believe that countries like Ha-ha Land will fulfill their

obligations. So, in short, nothing can be done.

And on the flip side, the lunchtime eagle may be quite useful. For one thing, it increases

the chances of the two engaging sides becoming friends and thus coming to a peace

agreement; because if you eat lunch with a group of people, it is more tempting to

befriend those people. Never mind that you were sworn enemies once upon a time; now

you are just fellow soldiers equally wearied by the same battle and eating lunch

together. And also, it gives soldiers the chance to eat a hearty lunch. And finally,

combatants and especially generals can use the lunch-time eagle’s disturbance for

strategic purposes. They can secretly assess the state of the soldiers, and go over

military strategies.

So if you are a valiant and valued knight, and are bemoaning yourself on lost

opportunities and glories resulting from that impertinent eagle’s call, then I ask you this

one simple question: Would you miss all your lunches just for the sake of chivalry? And

if you say yes, I most certainly would, then I ask you to reconsider your position. Missing

one lunch might be nobly done, but missing every lunch in the battle will do neither you

nor your ego, or even your country any good. You would starve to death before you

obtained the honor gained by fighting to the death. Which wouldn’t really matter, since

you’d die in both cases. But fighting to a glorious death is slightly more desirable.

This article originally appeared in the Eriliniland Chronicle. Stay posted for more updates.