In an unprecedented turn of events, an unusual breakfast trend has left magical creatures weeping, quite literally. Reports have emerged from across the nation that the rapidly growing popularity of avocado toast has resulted in a shocking shortage of unicorn tears, and it’s safe to say that brunch has never been this magical—or controversial.
It all began when Millennial Instagram influencers started championing avocado toast as the “it” food, touting its health benefits and photogenic appeal. But what was their secret weapon for making their avocado toast stand out among millions? None other than a sprinkle of rare unicorn tears—known for their iridescent shimmer, which somehow makes every brunch look like it was blessed by the gods themselves.
Unicorn herders from the Scottish Highlands to the Welsh valleys have responded with a plea to social media giants, urging influencers to stop this unsustainable practice. “We can’t keep up,” lamented Angus McHoof, a third-generation unicorn herder. “Do you know how hard it is to get a unicorn to cry? They’re the happiest creatures in the universe!”
In an attempt to placate angered unicorn rights activists, the National Unicorn Alliance has released a list of tear-inducing fairytales, in hopes that gentle storytelling sessions will yield tears in a humane manner. However, there are limited volunteers willing to sit through repetitive readings of “The Ugly Duckling” for hours on end.
Moreover, the cost of unicorn tears has skyrocketed. What was once traded quietly in niche magical markets has now become a booming black-market business. Avocado toast enthusiasts are reportedly shelling out thousands, trading in their designer handbags and jewelry for just a few glistening drops.
Vegans have been particularly affected, as they’re caught between their love for avocado toast and their desire to not exploit mythical creatures. “I used to put it on everything,” confessed self-proclaimed Unicorn Tears-sommelier, Willow Sproutson. “It’s just hard to imagine a world where breakfast doesn’t glisten with celestial grace.”
Meanwhile, unicorns everywhere are reportedly donning sunglasses and incognito hats, attempting to hide from social media spotters. One unicorn, who wished to remain anonymous, stated, “I just want to graze in peace without worrying about emotionally-driven hydration.”
In response to the crisis, innovators have started exploring alternative methods. Scientists are investigating the possibility of lab-grown artificial unicorn tears. The prototypes have been promising, though reactions are mixed, with some purists insisting it’s not the same without the genuine article’s thousand-year-old mystic essence.
The sudden shortage has sparked online debates and government discussions on unicorn exploitation and ethical brunch practices. Parliament is set to discuss the issue next week under the banner: “Do Avocados Have Too Much Avocontrol?”
For now, brunch enthusiasts are advised to savor their remaining reserves and consider returning to more traditional toppings like poached eggs or, heaven forbid, butter. As for the unicorns, they probably wouldn’t mind a little less attention and a lot more privacy to enjoy their enchanted meadows.
And so, as the nation stands at a crossroads of breakfast identity, one thing is clear: when it comes to brunch, perhaps the true magic was in our hearts all along—or maybe just in that extra slice of toast.