Pretty Mannequins All in a Row

Lifting the lid, she scanned the eggs. All but one looked the same. She chose that one. Cracking it,
she thought, "No more girl-gruel for me."

It was time to stoke the vanishing fire in her belly,
to vary her intake. She'd had her fill of homogeneity-
grits and passivity-pudding.

She observed the others staring blankly (but sweetly),
as they sat expressionless, perfectly posed, all in a row,
like a carton of eggs (and not the free-range kind).

Their heads were tilted in a submissive-looking slope,
as if ready to sooth someone's troubled brow. They
appeared as throwbacks,1950s-style. In resistance,

she positioned her razor, shaved off her right eyebrow,
and walked out the door. Looking over her shoulder,
she scoffed at the sign:

The Stepford Girls' School, Re-Grooming for the Next Generation (Get 'Em Back in Line!)