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  • Government Name: Mark Dixon
  • Register Number: R-01558
  • Age:32
  • Time Served:14 years
  • Home Town:Chicago, Illinois
  • Sentence:35 years
  • Current Charge:1st Degree Murder, 2 Counts of Attempted Murder
  • Alias:Chyna Bo
  • Release Date:2034
  • Prison Affiliation:Gangster Disciple
  • Circle of Influence:LaBron Neal Bey, Fall Back
  • Institution:Pickneyville Correctional Center
  • With every child murdered in the streets, the bullseye on your head grows bigger.

A Hen House Conspiracy

One day a fox, grown tired of the exchange between he and the owner of a coop of hens, decides to steal the entire coop.

“I’ll raise them up as my own and feast upon them at my leisure.” With the brilliance of his plan deeply embedded in his mind, old Mr. Fox set out to see it met. “How do I steal the entire coop?” he wondered. After a few days of deep concentration the answer came. Approaching the gate of the chicken coop, Mr Fox’s presence caused a raucous. The hens flopped and cawed in panic. “Settle down!” said the fox. “I’m here to emancipate you.” Afraid of the fox and his cunning hunting style the chickens began to caw even louder. “Shhh! I’m here to rescue you from your owner,” prying apart the wire to the fence. “That’s not true!” a brave rooster with a bright red comb on his head says. “Our owner waters, feeds, and protects us from killers like you.”

“True, but only at the cost of an occasional slaughter.”

“You’re a liar,” a rather plump hen argues.

“I’m afraid not my dear,” the fox says walking away after creating an opening in the fence.

Waiting for the fox to leave the chickens relax a little and begin to discuss what they should do. A large rooster with a few brown chest feathers speaks first, “We’ve been in this coop for a long time, some all their lives. Still, I remember when we were free; free to wander and explore the land, eat different seeds and what not, and live without so many fences and bars around us.” A young skinny rooster steps forward, “What’s so much better about that when we’ll have to supply our own food and water and protect ourselves from predators. That doesn’t sound very free to me.” A short, squat hen replies, “Mr. Fox is a liar, but this time there’s truth to his words. Our owner eats just as many chickens as the fox, only it’s a regular thing because we’ve been trained to ignore it.” A few chickens angered by the words about the owner approach the squat hen ready to peck her. “Please, I know we’re all scared and not thinking clearly. All we need to do is ask ourselves, what happens to our eggs every morning?” The coop goes silent as they ponder their unspeakable secret. “That’s never to be spoken of, everyone knows that,” an emotional hen remarks, tearing up. “We don’t want to face it but we pay for the owners protection with the lives of our children. Can’t you see it?” A tall angry chicken spits at them, “And still what life are we living?”

Having monitored the dialogue from around the corner, Mr. Fox emerges from his hiding place. “Just this morning, I . . . Mr. Fox,” he says emotionally, “was trapped and taken to the owner’s kitchen and bound for the stewpot. It was lucky I played dead long enough to divert his attention, or else I’d be stewing right now. It was when I escaped that I decided we should work together. I understand your fears but one of your roosters will wake the owner shortly, and when that happens, we’re stuck. Anyone who wants to leave must come now.” With these words Mr. Fox runs away. The chickens swayed by his words follow him out of the coop. Having stoked the fires of hunger, Mr. Fox grabs one of the roosters by the neck, snapping it. It isn’t long before he begins plucking the feathers and eating its flesh. Shocked by his actions, those still in the coop pause. “Don’t worry,” he says, gulping down the rooster. “I had to eat him before he started to crow and wake the owner.” Pushed away from their natural suspicions, the chickens continue to flee the coop. Following the fox’s lead, they run and run and run until they reach the chicken coop that’d been hastily put together by the fox.

“I thought we’d be free,” says the tall, angry chicken who’d helped convince the others to escape. “You will be, but I have to put you in this pen. Otherwise other foxes may eat you, or your owner may come steal you away.” Having come this far the chickens reluctantly do as they’re told. No sooner than the last chicken steps into the pen, “Okay, who of you wants his family to survive?” The chickens look up confused. “I don’t suppose you eat dirt, and the only chicken feed here is at the owner’s farm. I’ll have to go and steal enough to feed you all. In exchange for my services, I’ll need a chicken a day.” Gasping in disgust, the plump hen argues, “I knew it was a trick.”

“Why do you hesitate? Your owner took every egg you laid every morning. A chicken a day is nothing. I’ll even let you choose.” A timid chicken who hadn’t spoken says, “Okay, but only the weaker or older chickens.”

“That’ll due, okay. Now, while I’m gone, who’ll keep watch over the pen for me?” Several large roosters step forward. “Good,” says Mr. Fox, ” I’ll make sure your family gets a fair shot at the feed when it comes.” Salivating at his own genius, Mr. Fox snatches another chicken, greedily gobbling it down. Holding up his paws as he chews, “Hold up, I know what this looks like, but trust me that hen was sick. She would’ve made all of you sick.”

Days go by, then weeks, then months, before the people (chickens) realize old Mr. Fox is just like their owner. Neither ever had anything in mind except how they would be fed.

 

  

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