Three Lettered Chicken Place

At least I hope it's chicken. Hope to god it's chicken. There have been rumors...

As I am poor and have no problem labeling myself as such, when it comes to food and the buying of food I will often try to buy the kind of food that will last me a while. i.e. days. I'm a huge fan of beans and cornbread, despite what they do to other people who happen to cross my path when I'm on the treadmill (I try my best I swear to god). I also like rice and mashed potatoes. Starch is great. Sliced turkey makes for great lunches. Pizza is great for breakfast, lunch and dinner.

Well, today I made a mistake.

My loving father was kind enough to mail me some money and in my sheer joy I drove my happy ass to the Three Lettered Chicken Place. Now, it'd been a while since I'd been to TLCP, and I remembered the "chicken" tasting rather well. Then again, I was a child.

I'd seen on TV that TLCP has a deal where you can get ten pieces of legs and thighs for under ten bucks. As a black person, it is within my nature to like chicken. And my favorite parts of the chicken happen to be legs and thighs. This to me seems like a grand deal. Add some mashed potatoes and some biscuits and we're cooking with gas. Evil Gas. (Karen will get that).

So I'm going through the drive through and I'm looking for the deal I want and I don't see it. That should be tip off number one. What they have is the ten piece MEAL, which is about twice as much. So I talk into the mic and I tell the nice lady that I want the ten piece meal for under ten bucks. And then she asks for sides. I tell her mashed potatoes and biscuits. She asks if I want the meal. I say no, not really and she persists that I get the meal cause technically that's what I'm asking for anyway. Flag number two.

I tell her I want mashed potatoes and biscuits and then she asks if I want the coleslaw. I say no, just mashed potatoes and the biscuits. So then she tells me I'm getting TWO orders of mashed potatoes. I go with this, though I shouldn't. She asks me what drink I'd like and I tell her the caffeine free clear soda, thinking that it would just be a regular sized soda. She gives me the price, which is twice as much as I'd intended to spend but I figure I'll be eatin' for days anyway.

Yes. I will be. Sad as that is.

So I pull around and wait and she takes my money and gives me the sack of heart attack inducing goodies and tells me to wait a minute while she gets my drink. Emphasis on DRINK. I put the emphasis on drink because what she brings me back is NOT a "drink". It's a bucket. A bucket of soda. With a HANDLE.

Through my shock I take said bucket, wondering where the hell I'm going to put it before deciding between my legs will be the safest option. So now I've got this cold bucket between my thighs and I'm starving because I didn't have a solid lunch (smoothie at the cyber cafe). I get back to my building without a spilling incident and head up to my apartment where I proceed to tear into my food.

Ten minutes later I am regretting this decision.
The "chicken" tastes nothing like I remember and it seems a bit extra, extra crispy. The mashed potatoes are good, as well as the biscuits so I enjoy those. After twenty minutes and two full glasses of soda I am stuffed and my heart is wondering just what the hell it did to deserve this treatment. You know how healthy you are when you eat bad foods and your body stages a revolt. I feel like Lisa Simpson after she drank the water at Duff Gardens. "I am the Lizard Queen!"

Well, I've made my bed and I shall lie in it, eating this "chicken" for the next few days. Though it has had one healthy benefit: It's got me craving a big, green leafy salad.