Stop Judging Beggars and the Homeless

The room was quiet and tensed. You could cut through the quietness with a knife. Claws tapping nervously on the wooden table as the Chairman of the Feathered Fraternity, an impeccably groomed cockerell in a suit, adjusted his tie. Hanging behind him is the portrait of the legendary General Krokrokoo staring down with authority. "Ladies and gentlemen," he began, his comb wobbling with every word that comes out of his mouth, "we are facing an existential crisis. Christmas is just around the corner, and we are the main course. There was a collective gulp around the table. Hen van Rita (aka Holland Akokɔ), a sophisticated broiler from Holland with glasses on her beak, clucked, "I propose we start a fundraising campaign to buy the farmer corned beef this year. I think this is erhm...errh a less feathery alternative, and I suggest Turkson should lead the campaign." This is outrageous, "barked Turkson from Chofiland, flapping his wings. "You're just pushing the problem onto my kind. Solidarity, Hen Rita! Solidarity!! "Quiet Turkson," the chairman cut in, his comb twitching. We are all in this together. Except you, of course. You are already on the VIP menu. "Excuse me," squawked Kontwa, a seasoned hen with battle scars from the kitchen door, "why don't we escape? Dig under the coop and fly to Savanna Region. They usually s*******r cows and sheep for their festivals. There was a pause. The group exchanged looks, awkward and embarrassed. Finally Asɛnsɛ retorted, "Kontwa, I don't get you. What have you been drinking lately, or have you started using long broom." Kontwa, agitated, also shot back, "What are you insinuating, Asɛnsɛ?" "I mean, are you now a witch to be thinking of flying out? You of all people should know that we can’t fly." Asɛnsɛ responded. "Oh! You're right," Kontwa muttered, ruffling her feathers in shame. Suddenly, the meeting room door burst open. It was Yaw Dabo (Sister Dorky's big brother), waddling in dramatically. "The Wild Geese led by James Bond have teamed up with the Chicken Invaders" he announced out of breath. "They are threatening a mass walkout unless Christmas menus change. No goose, no peace!" The room erupted into chaotic cackling and clucking. The chairman banged his gavel, "Order, order, order!!! His comb was practically vibrating. "Here’s the plan. We infiltrate the farmer’s house, replace the recipe books with vegetarian ones, and "accidentally" tip over the Akpeteshi barrel. A sober farmer is less dangerous" Everyone nodded in agreement. As they finalized their daring mission, nobody noticed Koo Kra (christened Thomas Joseph Kra) in the corner, tail flicking, silently l*****g its lips in anticipation of his chicken meal this Christmas. But he has forgotten he became an orphan when Efo Dagadu visited last Christmas. This year, he's coming with Gadagbui and Adekatugbui. End of Scene I hope this clucking satire made you laugh and set the tone for a festive, feather-filled Christmas season—wishing you a fantastic Fridaaaaay!!!!🕺💃🕺💃🕺💃🍺🥂