One slow night at my restaurant, we were digging in the back of the freezer just to see what was there when, much to our surprise, we discovered SUICIDE CHICKEN.
Our acquaintaince with the doomed fowl began amiably enough. Mr. Chicken felt somewhat "less than fresh" after his long, long stay in the freezer, so we showed him to the loo, where he took a bath and relieved his chicken bladder.
We then engaged in a bit of whimsy: posing Suicide Chicken on our owner's car.
Something about this seemed to depress Suicide Chicken, however. Perhaps some of his relatives had been killed while attempting to cross the road. He retired to the bathroom mirror to ruminate upon his miserable life.
He then seemed to make a decision. He asked to be shown to the office, where he perched on the owner's computer and looked up suicide methods.
His plans made, Suicide Chicken calmly smoked his last cigarette and prepared to die.
Finally, with some help from a server's tie, Suicide Chicken hung himself by his fucking neck in the urinal.
Actually, that's not the real end of the Suicide Chicken saga. We tried to help him die by fire out back in the alley, but 1) it was way too dark for good pictures to come out, and 2) that motherfucker would not light for love or money. Seriously, we doused him with Cognac and held a blowtorch to him for like 5 minutes with no result whatsoever except for a lovely fried chicken smell. One of the servers even breathed fire on him. Nothing. So, suffice it to say, if we'd had a few lights, and if the chicken wasn't wet and half frozen, you'd be looking at some wicked sweet pictures right now. Oh, and we forgot the chicken outside that night, leaving a feast for the rats. The remains the next day were not remotely fun to dispose of.
And on an absolutely unrelated note, I saw this sign in a supermarket recently:
It's a crappy picture, but the second line on that sign is "NEW AGE BEVERAGES"
I don't know what a "new age" beverage is. I don't WANT to know what a "new age" beverage is. It just makes me a little sad that this sign exists.
Our acquaintaince with the doomed fowl began amiably enough. Mr. Chicken felt somewhat "less than fresh" after his long, long stay in the freezer, so we showed him to the loo, where he took a bath and relieved his chicken bladder.
We then engaged in a bit of whimsy: posing Suicide Chicken on our owner's car.
Something about this seemed to depress Suicide Chicken, however. Perhaps some of his relatives had been killed while attempting to cross the road. He retired to the bathroom mirror to ruminate upon his miserable life.
He then seemed to make a decision. He asked to be shown to the office, where he perched on the owner's computer and looked up suicide methods.
His plans made, Suicide Chicken calmly smoked his last cigarette and prepared to die.
Finally, with some help from a server's tie, Suicide Chicken hung himself by his fucking neck in the urinal.
Actually, that's not the real end of the Suicide Chicken saga. We tried to help him die by fire out back in the alley, but 1) it was way too dark for good pictures to come out, and 2) that motherfucker would not light for love or money. Seriously, we doused him with Cognac and held a blowtorch to him for like 5 minutes with no result whatsoever except for a lovely fried chicken smell. One of the servers even breathed fire on him. Nothing. So, suffice it to say, if we'd had a few lights, and if the chicken wasn't wet and half frozen, you'd be looking at some wicked sweet pictures right now. Oh, and we forgot the chicken outside that night, leaving a feast for the rats. The remains the next day were not remotely fun to dispose of.
And on an absolutely unrelated note, I saw this sign in a supermarket recently:
It's a crappy picture, but the second line on that sign is "NEW AGE BEVERAGES"
I don't know what a "new age" beverage is. I don't WANT to know what a "new age" beverage is. It just makes me a little sad that this sign exists.
I once made a marching band out of cream cheese and tooth picks.