The Road
by Topaz

The chicken stumbled across the endless sea of pavement, his feet worn and bleeding with shreds of flesh hanging off. The bird was thin and exhausted, with only one goal that kept him going, that kept the fire of determination in his glazed eyes. He must cross the road.

Giant cars whizzed by on either side, narrowly missing the brave fowl, but the chicken paid no attention. All of his consciousness was focused on that one task. He struggled onward, desperate to reach the other side. He completely ignored his peril, so great was his resolve.

He had reached the middle of the road, and the cars were no longer a threat. They zoomed past on both sides, sending waves of choking black dusty air into the chicken's dry lungs. He coughed hard, and spots of blood dotted the pavement. The dark, cruel, never-ending pavement, hot from the fierce sun, ripping away the flesh from his feet and the moisture from his dying body. Still the chicken lurched on.

But why? he thought bitterly. Why should I cross the road? What's the point? The cars sped past, unconscious of the bird as he lay on the asphalt, the cruel sun beating down on him. His feathers had lost their proud gloss; his plumpness had dissipated, and his eyes held the glazed, empty look of one close to death.

After all, what good would crossing the road do him? Why should he? The chicken stared at the endless stretch of blackness, covered with deadly cars that could crush his neck like an eggshell. He racked his brain for the purpose, the reason that he brought him through this deathtrap they called a road. He couldn't find it.

The cars whizzed past, and no one noticed the small, dispirited chicken huddled in the middle of the road. Weeping. No one noticed the dead bird there on the pavement, dry and frail, or the skeleton picked clean by insects, and no one noticed when the chicken's remains vanished entirely.

Why did the chicken cross the road?

To die.

Wow. I have no idea where that fic just came from. I couldn't decide whether this would be humor or tragedy, since, me being a very mean person, I couldn't help but find the poor chicken's plight hysterical. Sorry, but it's true. Well, now that you're nice and depressed, I'll go have dinner. Bye.