randomeer: Random_Guy
If a cow could suddenly look you square in the eye and politely mention that she’s actually a big fan of 80s synth-pop and would rather not be turned into a cheeseburger, Sunday lunch would get very awkward, very quickly.
At the moment, our carnivorous habits rely entirely on a sort of "don’t ask, don’t tell" policy. The animal stays quiet, and we stay blissfully detached, pretending our steak was grown in a vacuum rather than on a sentient being.
But the second a pig starts narrating its inner monologue or, heaven forbid, starts pleading for its life in a posh accent, the psychological barrier between "dinner" and "friend" would go up in smoke.
We’d be forced to move from being a nation of animal lovers who eat animals to a nation of terrified vegetarians clutching our heads in our hands.
The soundscape of a typical Tuesday would become a total nightmare.
Imagine trying to walk to the shops while a flock of pigeons heckles you for your crusts or a squirrel gives you a detailed, unsolicited lecture on the best places to store acorns.
Every petting zoo would turn into a courtroom, with goats airing long-standing grievances about the quality of the hay.
We’d likely see a massive surge in the sale of noise-canceling headphones, not to block out the traffic, but to drown out the guilt. You can’t really enjoy a bacon sarnie when the source of the bacon is in the corner of the room discussing its hopes and dreams for the upcoming football season.
If we let our imaginations run a bit wild, society would essentially become a permanent, chaotic episode of a surreal sitcom.
We’d have sheep demanding better shearing conditions and unionized chickens refusing to lay eggs until they get more HBO. Perhaps we’d even see interspecies political parties, with a golden retriever running for Mayor on a platform of "More Balls, Less Cats."
Ultimately, we’d have to find a way to coexist with creatures who can finally tell us that we’ve been remarkably rude for the last few thousand years.
We’d probably end up surviving on lab-grown mush and apologizing profusely to every cow we pass in a field, while they just roll their eyes and ask if we’ve got any spare biscuits.
