Fried Chicken

If there’s one thing you must know about me, it’s that I love fried chicken. Breakfast, lunch, dinner, and even snack time, all I can think about is eating fried chicken. My friends call me The Chicken Man…well, my enemies ALSO call me The Chicken Man. I’m afraid of many things, but what I fear most is that one day we might run out of fried chicken in the world.

For breakfast, you guessed it, I’m eating fried chicken. I’m going to head in to work soon. Believe it or not, I don’t work in a fried chicken restaurant. I’m actually a supply manager for a department store company.

I’m Lavern Norwood, and did I forget to mention I love fried chicken? My wife, Alease, walks in on me devouring my sixth piece of fried chicken of the day. I look up, smile, and dab the grease off of my lips. She returns the smile and grabs a glass of milk before joining me at our little sitting table.

“How’s it going, Lavern?” Alease asks.

“Same as usual. I got my routine running. Well, I have something else I must do tonight after I get off work,” I say.

“Oh yeah?” Alease asks.

“Yeah, going to the tailors again,” I reply.

“Again? Your suit looks fine,” Alease argues.

“Nah, it’s getting a bit too tight,” I reply.

“Hmmm, perhaps it would be less expensive to get a gym membership than to keep tailoring your suit?” Alease asks with a chuckle before sipping her milk.

“See, the issue with that is I have no time to work out. Work keeps me busy, and I do get some exercise. They’ve been putting me on coffee duty lately,” I explain.

“How about on the weekends?” Alease suggests.

“I like to sleep on the weekends. After a hard week of work, all I want to do is sleep…sleep and eat fried chicken,” I say, biting into my fried chicken.

“If you could make money off eating fried chicken, I bet you would take that job in a heartbeat,” Alease says.

“You know I would!” I say and laugh. “Imagine, though, imagine… Getting paid to eat your favorite food.”

“I love you, Lavern… No matter what, I love you,” Alease says, scooting closer and giving me a hug.

“I love you too, Alease,” I say, giving her a kiss. “See you after work!”

I finished my ten pieces of fried chicken (That’s like half the daily recommendation of calories) and head in to work. Pretty much everyone at work hates me. For some reason, the delivery guy hates me the most. He’s kinda like me, but instead of monitoring product use, he’s in charge of shipping our products to various stores in the area.

Hmmm, who at work hates me the least? The janitor, probably. He and I go way back and we’ve bonded over being rejects at the office. He doesn’t even seem to mind too much when I accidentally track fried chicken crumbs down the hallways.

“Oh heeeeey, it’s The Chicken Man! I thought you would never make it!” the delivery guy says, extending his arms dramatically to increase his “wing span”.

“I got a little held up on the way,” I say. “Some dog thought I was food.”

“Awww, what a shame… I bet that dog would have enjoyed eating you…or not… You’d probably make it feel sick,” the delivery guy says with a sneer. “Do you even DO your job? I bet you would be out of here fast if anyone ever offered to pay you to eat fried chicken!”

“You know I would. Well, I need to get to my desk. Don’t you have some packages to be delivering?” I ask.

“Ah yes… I have a package right here…” the delivery guy says.

Next thing I know? I get a trash can dropped over my head. I groan, feeling the disgusting trash sludge drip down my face. I’m much too heavy, otherwise he may have put me in the trash can.

I hear him retreat, laughing all the way. I sigh and stand there, unsure of how to remove the can from my head with my arms pinned to my sides. All of a sudden, the can is removed and the bright office lights blind me. It’s my good friend, the janitor.

“Hey, man… You don’t look like trash to me,” the janitor says, cleaning me off with a rag. “You keep getting yourself into these messes…”

“Yeah, I know… Thanks for removing the can. Ow, my arms hurt…” I groan.

“Why do you bother staying here?” the janitor asks.

“Wellll, I love my job. I like seeing the numbers go up and down. I’m really passionate about keeping our budget and supply chain in line…” I say.

“But nobody here likes you,” the janitor says. “You and I are the company rejects. Don’t you see? You have a college degree, why don’t you use it to get yourself out of here?”

“Well, a college degree means nothing if the people won’t hire you,” I say and smile sadly. “I can’t be a chemist if no lab will hire me.”

“I suppose, but isn’t anywhere better than here?” the janitor asks.

“Well, you know what they say…if there was a job that would pay me to eat fried chicken, I’d be out of here in a heartbeat,” I say.

“Good luck, bud. Tell Alease I said hi,” the janitor says, picking up the fallen pieces of trash.

“Sure thing, bud,” I say.

I head to the elevator. No way am I taking the stairs today. I half expect I’d get ambushed in the stairwell, and also my office room is towards the top of the building. The place is kinda old…

I press the elevator building and floor shudders a bit. The elevator arrives with a ding and I step in. The elevator creaks, threatening to break with me in it. I hit the sixth floor button.

Sometimes I wonder, why do we need so many floors? The doors slowly creak and shut. Then, creaking the whole way up, it ascends with me to my floor. The elevator jostles and stops, the lights flickering a moment.

“Please don’t break, please don’t break, please don’t break…” I whisper.

I fart loudly and the air quickly becomes unbreathable. I gag, banging on the door. The elevator dings and slowly opens, letting me escape. RIP Whomever takes that elevator next!