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Once upon a time, in a far away land, there lived a chicken named Bob, and Bob The Chicken was his name. One fine evening just after supper, he put on his hat and coat and headed for the front door. "Where are you going?" asked Mrs The Chicken. "I'm going across the road" replied Bob. "But why?" asked Mrs The Chicken "Oh, I'll tell you later" replied Bob.
So, Bob set out, and almost made it to the gate when he ran into his old friend, business associate and drinking buddy Nigel The Hamster. "Hallo Bob!" said Nigel "Hallo Nigel," said Bob, "What brings you out and about on this fine evening?" "Oh," said Nigel, "I'm off to the pharmacy to pick up some sleeping pills for my good lady wife." "Ah," said Bob, "Woken up again, has she?" "Oh Bob, you're just a bundle of laughs," intoned Nigel "I am, aren't I?" said Bob. "So tell me," said Nigel, "Why are you all behatted and becoated and generally behaving in a moving about and travelling kind of a way?" Bob paused for a few seconds, pondering the question, and when he'd figured it out he replied, "I'm just going across the road." "Across the road indeed?" said Nigel, "Pray enlighten me as to the explanation for this escapade of the road-transversal variety" "Pardon?" said Bob "Why are you going across the road?" translated Nigel. "Why d'you think?" said Bob with a wink, setting forth once more in an opposite-side-of-the-road-ward direction, but with his first step he almost tripped over Gwen the Goldfish, who was flapping about on the pavement, the pond in which she lived being about a mile away. "Hallo Gwen," said Bob, "What are you doing so far from water, that being your natural environment and everything?" "*Hack!* *Splutter!*" replied Gwen. "Uh-huh..." said Bob. "Well, I'm heading across the road." "*Gasp!* *Choke!*" replied Gwen. "It's a secret" said Bob. Gwen made no reply to this. Instead she gave one almighty flap and came to rest in the gutter, where she lay motionless. "O...K..." said Bob. "Well...I guess I'll talk to you later"
And Bob turned to leave once more, and was immediately halted by a tap on his shoulder and a voice saying, "Hallo Bob!" "Oh, for fuck's sake!" muttered Bob, and then at a louder, more conversational volume, "Hallo Gerald," for indeed 'twas none other than Gerald The Rabbit, fresh out of the police cells where he'd been held on charges of cruel and unusual poetry. "And what are you up to these days?" inquired Bob, for such was demanded by politeness. "Well," said Gerald, beaming, "I've enrolled into a course at the university!" "Which course would this be?" asked Bob "Creative Swearing 101!" replied Gerald. "Oh, shitty arse buggery fuckwank!" said Bob, who was the course tutor. "Quite," said Gerald. "So, tell me, Bob, what are you doing so far from home?" Bob leaned against his garden hedge and said through clenched teeth, (very rare, so we're told), "I'm going across the road." "Now why," asked Gerald, "would you possibly want to go across the road?" "Because it's where I'm frigging going!" said Bob, "Now if you'll excuse me," he said, turning and walking straight into Roger The Sheep. "Oh, fuck off, Roger!" yelled Bob. "The sole reason for your being here is so your stupid name can provide a cheap laugh!" "Can't argue with that," said ROGER THE SHEEP, milking the gag just a little. "So, what's this I hear about you going across the road?" "Oh, for the love of God!" cried Bob, stretching his little wings wide in irritation. "Will I never be free from these infernal questions? Why not ask that guy over there!" he added, indicating a man with an amusing moustache who had been watching the proceedings with not inconsiderable indifference.
So, Nigel The Hamster, Gerald The Rabbit and ROGER THE SHEEP (desperate for just one more little laugh) went over to the Amusingly Moustachio'd Man, who was now engaged in selling a dead goldfish he'd found in the gutter to a strange looking man who had circles around his eyes, wore a Grateful Dead T-shirt and said "wow" a lot.
"Pray tell us," said Nigel The Hamster, who had been elected spokesman of the group, (having pipped Gerald The Rabbit at the post by the narrowest of margins following a very dirty campaign) "Why is Bob going across the road? And why is your moustache so amusing?" he added. "I have no idea, for I am a stranger to these parts" said the Amusingly Moustachio'd Man, "and leave the amusingness of my moustache out of this!" he added. "Where did you come from?" asked Nigel The Hamster. "No-where real," said the Amusingly Moustachio'd Man. "How did you get here?" asked Nigel The Hamster. "I swam, obviously," said the Amusingly Moustachio'd Man. "But why?" asked Nigel The Hamster. "I fancied a change of scenery," said the Amusingly Moustachio'd Man, "and the weather here is nice," he added, casually side stepping a lightning bolt. "Well, I'm bored, this is all too bloody surrealistic for my tastes," said Nigel The Hamster, "let's just ask Bob, shall we?"
So, Nigel The Hamster, Gerald The Rabbit and ROGER THE SHEEP, whose continued presence was just sad, cried out unto Bob The Chicken, who had by this time made it to about half way between the center line and the opposite side of the road.
"Bob! Bob!" was their cry. "Bob! You must tell us! Why are you going across the road?"
Bob The Chicken turned in mid stride to face the multitude.
"Alright, you nosey bastards!" he yelled. "You want to know why I'm going across the road? I'll tell you why I'm going across the road! I'm going across the road because - "
SPLAT! went the 30 ton truck as it rolled gracefully over Bob's head.
"Well," said Nigel The Hamster, "who didn't see that coming a mile off?"
"I have nothing to say, I stopped being funny ages ago." said ROGER THE SHEEP.
"My work here is done!" said the Amusingly Moustachio'd Man, as the flying saucer beamed him up.
"I think I'll go and comfort Mrs The Chicken," said Gerald The Rabbit with a filthy grin.
THE END