Who Ate the Last Chicken Wing?

Guys and gals, it’s time that we sit down and have a little interrogation chat about something that’s even more important than world peace – a little matter of who the hell ate the last chicken wing?! 

Eating a man’s last chicken wing is like asking a woman about her age or weight.  You just don’t frikkin do it unless you’re trying to get your ass kicked!  It ranks up there with carjacking, lying and retail false advertisement.  Sure, a guilty culprit may lick the grease off their finger tips or wipe them clean on the fabric of their shirt or jeans, but the evidence lies in the pores of their skin and the aroma of their breath.  And a true chicken fanatic can sniff out the guilty like dogs sniff each other’s butts.

Evidence is eminent.  There is the trail of chicken crumbs; hot sauce stains; and grease-flavored belches.  There is the tummy rub; the heavy eyelids; and the smile of cured hunger satisfaction.  But the one thing that every last-chicken-wing-eating-thief fails to remember is that the last chicken wing usually has someone else’s name written all over it.  And when chicken lovers come back to the table to find that the last wing has been polished off, all hell breaks loose and no one is safe!  Especially if that last wing belongs to ME!

Women love diamonds.  Men love football.  Children love candy.  Old people love prunes.  Young people love booze.  But what about all those folks who scrape up their last dime for a single fix of a box of wings?  Popeyes, KFC, Golden Skillet, Wings & Things, House of Wings, New York Fried Chicken, Church’s Fried Chicken, and even Bojangles makes a killing off of people who are ashamed to enter a 12-step wing anonymous program, and you mean to tell me that there is someone in the world who thinks it’s okay for a greedy mofo to come along and snatch the last wing like a scavenger?  Even pigeons have more couth.

Now if you really want to piss someone off, don’t call them out of their name; don’t insult their intelligence; don’t even miscalculate their change.  Eat their last piece of chicken.  Just be prepared to run for the border because an ass whooping is on its way like a bill collector coming to collect a debt!

Actually, let me paint a more specific picture.

If you or anyone from your entourage decide to sit down for a meal with Hottywood, you can be sure there will be some deep fried chicken wings on the menu.  You can also be sure that when it comes down to the last piece, your fingers better be bound inside your pockets, ‘cause Hotty don’t play that!  Now I may have posed the question of who ate the last wing from the previous meal I shared with a few compulsive wing eaters, but trust me, that question was asked merely to warn the guilty perpetrator.  Because if there’s one thing that never lies, it’s my nose!  I can sniff out some bullsh*t and I can sniff out some chicken wings.  And I will find you!

“Watch your back ’cause I’m coming for you, sucka!”

_________________________________________________________

Quote of the week:   “A greedy father has thieves for children.”

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