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Foghorn sat in his single jail cell, arms crossed and silently fuming to himself all the while as he sat on his hard mattress.
This wasn't fair! Really now, life in prison? He expected fifteen, maybe even twenty years. Thirty years if he was stretching it. But life? Were these consarn, cherry-picking judges JOKING? All he did was test a few products! Sure a few minds may have been a little topsy-turvied in the aftermath but in the name of a little progress and innovation, was that TRULY so bad?
No, he reasoned to himself. No, it wasn't. Too bad no one else seemed to get it.
The jail cell opened and Foghorn looked up to see a guard walk in. Another two guards quickly blocked the cell entrance to make sure Foghorn didn't even think of trying to make a run for it. The guard approached him, holding something out to Foghorn.
It was a crisp white envelope.
"You have a letter." He told the rooster, completely stone faced.
Foghorn glared at the guard, trying to look a fraction of the important person he once was. Upon getting no reaction, the rooster rolled his eyes and grabbed the envelope from his hands. Strangely, there was no return address nor notes of who the sender was. That should have been his first warning.
Then again, Foghorn was never the brightest of the flock. Seeing Foghorn now focused on the letter in his hands, the guards nodded at each other and left, making sure to lock the cell door. Ripping the envelope open, Foghorn expected something like maybe money or even a bail notice....only to get none of that.
The letter...no, the page itself...was completely blank!
Foghorn growled to himself, tightening his grip on the paper's sides. "I say, I say, is this some kind of practical joke? Well if it is, I ain't laughing! I say, not at all!" Unfortunately, Foghorn failed to notice the small stick of dynamite attached at the end of the page with tape.
Sure enough....
BOOM!
Foghorn was left seeing stars, feathers completely burnt and his face near blackened. A small strip of paper fluttered down, landing on top of the rooster's head. Feeling the paper lying on top of his charred crest, Foghorn took the strip of paper off with a hand and read the small, almost ineligible words on it.
"For Daffy."
---
A week and a half later, Foghorn got another letter. Having only barely managed to recover from the explosiveness of the first letter, Foghorn was a little suspicious to say the least. But what assuaged him was the fact that this time, the letter did seem to have a return address.
Not to mention that it seemed to have something in it. Something that suspiciously sounded and felt like change.
With a greedy smile, Foghorn ripped open the envelope. Sure enough, several ounces of change and even a couple hundred dollar bills were present. Foghorn grinned to himself. "Well, I say, I say, I've hit the jackpot!" So enamored was he with the money that he didn't bother to read the paper...nor noticed the explosive strings connected to the dollar bills and change.
One second later...
BOOM!
Foghorn was once again left a smoldering mess. The seared remains of the note fluttered out and landed on top of Foghorn's beak, right before his eyes. Even with how burned it was, Foghorn could still make out the words. It read:
"For Tweety."
---
One month later, Foghorn had since been moved to solitary confinement. Not because he had done anything in particular. But because the guards were worried at how with Foghorn having received TWO explosives in a row, someone was gunning for his life.
Foghorn was NOT happy to say the least.
He hated being in here. He hated how he couldn't do anything. He would have preferred his former cell over this death trap!
Just as he was about to lie back on his single mattress and close his eyes to get some rest, something outside the door caught his eye.
A package. A BIG one in particular.
He had received a package.
Looking around, Foghorn got off the bed and tip-toed his way over to the little space that food was slid in through. He pulled the package through, checking to make sure that no guards were around. Once it was in his cell, Foghorn shook the package to see what could possibly be in it. Nothing suspicious it seemed like. In fact it sounded like...tools. Much needed tools to help him get out.
With a grin, Foghorn tore open the package....only to his horror, it wasn't tools at all. But several sticks of dynamite all clustered together and ready to explode.
Well shoot...Foghorn thought, near resigned to what was going to happen. This is gonna hurt.
BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!
Upon hearing nearby explosions from their stations, guards rushed to where Foghorn was. Upon their arrival, they found a VERY soot covered rooster lying completely dazed and near unconscious in the middle of the solitary confinement cell. The entire room was near completely destroyed. The guards didn't know what had happened.
Unbeknownst to anyone there, a single note on a single strip of paper lied to the side, completely unnoticed.
"For Wile E. "