Boned
Okay, it's dinner break, right? I run down to the KFC in the rainy snow/snowy rain from Hell for a quickie to bring back to the store. I get a Honey BBQ Chicken Sandwich and some of those gross 'potato wedges.' I also fall for the pizza-faced punk's obnoxious sales pitch and get a medium Dr. Pepper "for only a few cents more."
I like the Honey BBQ Chicken Sandwich a lot. It's messy and quite tasty too. It's like somebody puked up a sloppy joes onto a fresh kaiser roll, only it's shredded chicken in honey bbq sauce instead of sloppy joes. Mmm mmm. Now before you think this is a commercial for KFC, keep reading.
And those effing potato wedges? Why?? It's like they cut a potato into wedges, rubbed them under a rusty sink then baked them 'til they're crunchy brown wood. Bleack! KFC is still a fast food place, right? So why can't they just make effing French fries? Come on, grease IS one of the food groups, along with chocolate and tobacco.
Anyway, I get back to the store and we're swamped. There's a line of idiots right down the cassette aisle. I shove the grub under the desk and get to work helping the mentally deficient pick out gifts their loved ones will hate and return in two weeks. It doesn't let up until it's time to lock the doors.
We all take a breath and I retrieve my soggy dinner while Barry counts out the drawer and Thawanda picks out the victory music. We always put on a CD to celebrate the animals leaving the store at closing time. Tonight it's "The Best of Gil Scott-Heron." Thawanda's choice. While Gil starts to guide us into a time warp bitching about Ronnie Reagan I unroll my bag of KFC goodies.
The ice has melted in the Dr. P so I give it to the sink. The potato wedges are just gross so I give them to Barry and Thawanda to split. After a minute in the nukawave they devour them like popcorn at a bad movie. I open the sandwich and amazingly it's still warm and smells great. Oh, the wonders of foil wrap.
I nukawave it for sixty-nine seconds just cuz I like the number so the sandwich will be even hotter and tastier. I bite into it. Ah, Nirvana. In my mouth, that is. It's still Gil Scott-Heron in my ears. Another bite. Another. And another. Then the crunch.
I'm still enjoying my yummy sandwich and just think it's a hard piece of chicken. It's a VERY hard piece of chicken. Well, there's chicken around it at least as I suck on it, but whatever this is in my mouth - it ain't chicken.
I pull it out of my mouth with my fingers and drop it on the counter with a thunk. Thawanda makes a face like I'm gross or something. Eff her. She's the one eating those potato wedges. It's a bone. A jagged chunk of chicken bone. I'm feeling a bit queasy now but still hungry. While the Wonder Twins play a quick game of what the hell is that I take a small bite from the other side of the sandwich and chew slowly and carefully.
Not worth the effort. I want it but I don't want to take the chance. Ain't life a bitch?
Barry says I gotta go back there and bitch. Thawanda thinks I should call a lawyer and get a million dollars like that crazy bitch with the hot McDonald's coffee. Hmmm. I hate Barry but he's older and smarter than Thawanda so it's back to the KFC for me.
They're closing up. I catch the pimply-faced kid who served me going out the door. He gives me one of those 'Idaknownuttins' I used to be good at when I was his age and directs me to the manager inside. I bang on the glass door doing my best Benjamin Braddock imitation.
The manager, a middle-aged woman with a pointy nose, opens the door a crack warily and hands me the same garbage I pass idiots that do this to me down at the record store. She's saying "I'm sorry we're closed," but she means "Piss off."
I explain my dilemma and even show her the bone chunk as big as a quarter but much thicker and heavier. She glares at me. "Would you like your money back?" She looks over her shoulder at the other wage slaves counting out their registers, "We could make you another sandwich."
My turn to glare.
"What do you expect? A million dollars? It's not like there was a rat or a turd in there."
I blink.
"It's a chicken sandwich. Chickens have bones. That's just the way it is."
I just can not believe this effing shit.
"You want another sandwich or not?"
It's too damn tempting. I put it in my backpack so Barry and Thawanda won't see it when I go back. I tell them I got my two bucks and change back. "It's not like there was a rat or a turd in there," I repeat.
I'm home. The sandwich is in the fridge. I got boned.