Why Did the Chicken Cross the Road?
Why did the chicken cross the road? This question has been an internationally known joke for decades. But I’m the only one who knows the whole story that has been transformed and twisted into something funny and light-hearted, but it is just the opposite. And It’s all my fault. In fact, I want to share it with the world and spread it in honor of my dear feathered friend, Chicken. Hi, I’m Rooster, Chicken’s best friend.
Ever since Chicken had laid eyes on her, he was in love with her. Her being Chicken’s daily daydreaming star, Hen. Even though Chicken loved Hen dearly, he was shy and couldn’t find the courage to approach her. I have to say, I felt bad for the poor chick. He was scared of even talking to her.
One day, Chicken and I were hiding out in his tree house playing Ebox (EggBox) at his house, when he suddenly spoke out to me as we were playing Chicken Simulator.
“That’s it. I’m doing it,” he said carefully, as if checking to see if he believed what he uttered from his beak. “I’m going over to Hen’s.” I was shocked. I didn’t believe him for a second. His expression wasn’t jokingly either. He meant it. Chick darn it he meant it.
“Holy haypen!” I exclaimed. “Are you actually serious?” He nodded. He walked over to his secret safe, putting in the combination, 1234, and took out a bouquet of the most colorful flowers I had ever seen.
“It’s time to tell her how I feel. I’m doing it. I’m doing it.” He repeated to himself, surely mentally insane by now. He started towards the latter. I ran after him.
“Don’t be silly, Chicken,” I dug my talon in the dirt nervously. “You know you aren’t allowed to cross the road. Mom said so. And Hen can’t hear you from all the way on the other side. And even if she does, you’re too chicken to even say a word to her.” I antagonized.
He puffed out his small, feathered chest. “Watch me,” he sneered. He started towards the road, his objective clear cut in his small brain. Uh-oh, this was not going to end good. I made one more attempt to convince him to not be a stupid clump of poultry. “Chicken, seriously, this is not a good idea. You will regret this,” I begged. He didn’t even glance at me, still walking towards the end of the sidewalk. “I’m doing it, I’m crossing the road,” He said one last time. Those were his last words.
As he stepped onto the road, a crowd of feathers and beaks had gathered, to watch this ground-breaking phenomenon. No chicken had ever crossed the road. They had all been too scared. Chicken, my friend, was the first… and the last.
He neared the center of the road and suddenly, a cry pierced the air. “CHICKEN!!!! Get back here right now mister!” His mother clucked angrily. Chicken hesitated, turning his head towards us. At that moment, a truck came racing by, knocking Chicken off of his feet, swinging into the air. We watched in horror as Chicken flipped in the air, as if in slow motion, descending towards the black, evil pavement.
Chicken was fried. His mother wailed in agony, before turning viciously to me. “Why didn’t you stop him? Why did he do that?”
I thought about this. If I mentioned that he was trying to get to Hen, Hen would get in trouble, and that would be messy, so I simply said as truthfully as I could,
“To get to the other side.”