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| ...and the chicken, decked out in Foster Grant wraparounds and Purina checkerboard slacks, cruised across La Cienica Boulevard in a 1959 monkey-shit-brown Buick Super, while the yellow biscuit of a buttery cue-ball moon came rolling maverick across an obsidian sky, and why? you say? Cause that's life, and that's what all the chickens say. You're one one side in April, and you're seriouly run down in May ... |
| There blue fingers of the moon still play on the chickens old lute. There wind scatters clouds and comes down to flutter on its robe. |
| To cast down its bucket where it was. |
| I cannot tell a lie. I was going to chop it with my little axe, so it crossed the road. |
| My scope shows the other side but it looks really far, are you sure you can cross it? | |
| I've lost both starboard engines. My fire control is out. I can't hold the chickens off any longer! |
| Hey, chief! There's some bozo here asking about something about a chicken and a road? |
| 'Cause I invited it to come up and see me sometime. |
| Why does a chicken cross the road only half-way? So she can lay it on the line. |
| To cluck the song of itself. | |
| Because lilacs last in the dooryard bloom'd on the other side. |
| I'll have to thoroughly research the chicken's musical background before I can compose a road-crossing theme. |
| Because: so much depends upon a red whell barrow glazed with rain water beside the white chickens |
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| The chicken is dead, the old bastard. | |
| In that great picture the chicken dances round, and go round and around, and that's how it crosses. |
| Because agents of the Ancient Illuminated Roosters of Cooperia were controlling it with their Orbital Mind-Control Lasers as part of their master plan to take over the world's egg production. |
| What do you two-bit quacks know about chickens? Did you learn about them in medical school, or did you just read the comic book? |
| (Early) The possibility of "crossing" was encoded into the objects "chicken" and "road," and circumstances came into being which caused the actualization of this potential occurrence. | |
| (Late) Because it had reached bedrock, and its spade was turned. | |
| There are indeed things that cannot be put into words. They make themselves manifest. They are what is mystical. | |
| What we cannot explain we must pass over in silence. |
| Kesey, muscles rippling under his shirt, a mysterious smile on his face, surrounded by the Merry Pranksters, placed the chicken at the road's edge. The chicken paused at the edge of the road, looking this way and that, and then rending the air with a tremendous, "ba-BAAWWWWKKK!" bolted across the road, its disheveled wings flapping uselessly about, leaving a trail of feathers and dander that, whenever two-ton chromium steel, 300 horsepower tail-finned symbols of Detroit's and America's supremacy passed, would swirl in a miniature version of a cyclone like the ones Mr. and Mrs. America see on the TV news every evening when he's come home from work and she's setting the table for dinner, both only half paying attention to the cyclones that devastate midwestern cow towns on sweltering summer afternoons. And the heat, dander, tornados, asphalt, tail-fins and the sweat of Mr. and Mrs. America as they move mechanically in their daily routine like the figurines in one of those huge medieval clocks on some cathedral in some European town, moving in the same way, every hour on the hour, it was all summed up by the "ba-BAAWWWWKKK!" of a scampering chicken accompanied by the "skritch, skritch" of its feet. |
| To have something to recollect in tranquility. |
| I do not know, Klingon chickens do NOT cross the road. | |
| Klingon chickens STILL do not cross roads. |

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© 1998 Ervin Nemeth. All rights reserved.