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I dream of a world where a chicken can cross the road without having his motives questioned. Yes, I am a chicken. Is this too much to ask? I mean what-the-fuck?
Heeeeyyyyy there. Wanna cluck til the sun comes up? Then it's the roosters job.
In my town people let their chickens run wild. They cross the roads all the time into other people's yards. They question why it crosses the road because all they do is dig holes in people's yards and poop on them.
I like chickens. They're one of my favorite animals.
:)
Who cares why the chicken crossed the road? The damn chicken doesn't care. If you care, you're a nut case.
The chicken crossed the road because his body was split and splattered to bits by roadtrip kids.