WHY DID THE CHICKEN CROSS THE ROAD ? by SEX...CIGARETTES...& SEWING MACHINES

WHY DID THE CHICKEN CROSS THE ROAD ? written by Sojourner Edmonson-Sealy

“Dressed in a Vintage, Canary Yellow, Comme Des Garçons Wool Coat that danced behind her as she walked, Monroe slowly took a seat on the platform, after completing her pledge. Locking eyes with the biggest enemy she had come across in her seven years of being in the FBI, sent a shiver up her spine that was stiffening.” -WHY DID THE CHICKEN CROSS THE ROAD ?

WHY DID THE CHICKEN CROSS THE ROAD?

WRITTEN BY SOJOURNER EDMONSON-SEALY The security barricaded around the entrance of the building in an immense effort as the winter’s glowing sun glared down on the riotsized crowd outside of the courthouse. Screaming irate chants and holding pick-it signs with phrases written on them like “DEATH TO THE MONSTER” and “MAY GOD HAVE NO MERCY ON YOUR SOUL,” while the last day of the trial was about to commence. #########################################

“Prosecutor, your last witness,” the older female judge demanded, while flipping through her notes from previous witness testimonies. “Yes, your Honor,” the tall and lanky prosecutor spoke. As he stood you could see how truly ill fitting his navy suit was. “I would like to call to the stand, my special guest witness, from the Federal Bureau of Investigation’s Top Priority Division.” There were loud gasps and heavy chattering as Monroe entered the courtroom. “Order in the court!!!” the judge yelled and banged her gavel in annoyance. As the courtroom continued to adjust itself, the prosecutor readied himself for a victorious feat. Once the gavel was pounded, the silence of the courtroom was deafening as Monroe approached the stand to testify against the international terrorist she had spent five long years of her life trying to take down. With a tall, but sultry presence, Monroe glided to the stand with all the confidence in the world; simultaneously harboring a mountain of nervous energy on her soul for the act she was about to commit; especially since loyalty was the main moral that she lived by in her personal life. Dressed in a vintage, Canary Yellow, Comme Des Garçons Wool Coat that danced behind her as she walked, Monroe slowly took a seat on the platform, after completing her pledge. Locking eyes with the biggest en-

emy she had come across in her seven years of being in the FBI sent a shiver up her spine that was stiffening. Kevin Barnes was a man so dangerously cunning, mercilessly violent, and fearfully infamous, that once Monroe received the news that she would be assigned to this case, Monroe snuck into the closest bathroom and threw up her entire lunch. The infamous terrorist stared in bewilderment as this truly surprising witness that was to take the stand against him. “Please state the name on your FBI Identification, for the record.” The prosecutor encouraged. “Monroe Allison Martin.” “Your FBI codename also, please.” “The Chicken” Monroe gave up, slight unwillingly. Satisfied with the answer given, the prosecutor then pointed, with an exacting finger towards the defendant, Kevin Barnes.

“Ms. Martin, do you know this man?” “I do” “State his name, for the record.” the prosecutor demanded. “Kevin Montgomery Barnes.” “In the reference of the Federal Bureau of Investigation’s Top Priority Division, what was Mr. Barnes’ Codename?” “His Codename was, The Road.”

In an escalating voice pattern, the prosecutor announced, “Ms. Mar-

tin, do you believe that this man is GUILTY AND SHOULD BE SENTENCED TO DEATH FOR ALL OF HIS TERRORIST RELATED DOINGS???” “OBJECTION, YOUR HONOR!!!” The defending attorney interjected. “Motion sustained,” the judge retorted in an exhausted notion. In incredible disbelief, the Prosecutor exclaimed, “ON WHAT GROUNDS, YOUR HONOR?” “ON THE GROUNDS THAT YOU ARE ATTEMPTING TO LEAD A JURY. NOW, PROCEED COUNSELOR!!” The judge ordered. Frustrated to a mild extent, the Prosecutor continued. “Ms. Martin, how long have you known the defendant?” “I’ve known him for five years.”

“And in what capacity has your relationship with the defendant been in?” The prosecutor prodded as the courtroom awaited an answer, as to how Barnes could have let this undercover FBI detective infiltrate his operation; he had to be smarter than that! Monroe noticed the tension the question stirred up in the room and took in a breathe that seemed to last forever. “I have been his wife for the past four years.”

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