Written by Asheville Jack

Wednesday, 19 August 2009

image for Police: All Points Bulletin Out for Missing Chicken Leg Have you seen this chicken Leg?

It had been a tough day. I was on my way home from work when I decided to stop by the local supermarket and pick up something for dinner. I finally settled on a rotisserie chicken for $4.99, paid for it and got the hell out of there.

I was hungry and tired and not in any mood for any bullshit either. So, imagine my disgust when I opened the rotisserie box at home to find a chicken with only one leg. I couldn't believe my eyes. Where a chicken leg should have been instead was a two inch hole. I remember thinking, "What the fuck, what happened to my chicken leg."

Taking a closer look it was apparent that someone had stolen my chicken leg. I was sure of it! The hole where the leg had been was white meat and not browned over like the rest of the chicken. "God damn it all to hell," I said out loud, "Someone stole my fucking chicken leg."

Then it dawned on me who the culprit was. Along side the boxes of garlic herb chicken, Cajun chicken, and Southwest rotisserie chicken were other packages of Bar-B-Q chicken legs. The manager of the supermarket deli had ripped off one of my chickens legs. He had sold that leg twice. Once to me and again to whoever bought the package of legs.

Now I was mad as hell as I realized that I was the one getting fucked in this deal. This was a twisted and diabolical conspiracy aimed directly at me. No deli manager was going to steal my chicken leg and get away with it. This was war!

Now I don't mean to brag, but I know people. I know people high up in the government in Washington DC. I mean if someone pisses me off today it's easy for me to make a phone call and have their whole life history tomorrow. And anyone who knows DC knows that one of it's main raison d'ĂȘtre is the artful skill of revenge. The old adage "revenge is a dish best served cold" was coined in DC, and I'm an ardent believer in old adages. So I made a few phone calls.

Again, I don't mean to brag, but lets just say that the deli manager, now known to me as a Mr. Lucas Feathers, has become a 'person of interest' to the IRS. And wait until he tries to cross the border with his passport revoked. God, I wish I could be there to witness that. And just to show you I'm not a complete asshole, in a of moment weakness and mercy I stopped short of having his broke ass put on the terrorist watch list.

Steal my chicken leg will you! Fuck you! How about that Mr. Lucas fucking Feathers.

The story above is a satire or parody. It is entirely fictitious.

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Topics: chickens
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