Fried Chicken Tragedy

Beginning And End

When I think about fried chicken, I feel happy. Frowns turn into smiles, boredom breaks into enthusiasm. Fortunately, I've ordered a bag of it at the local store. It was already cooked after buying it, I can only enjoy it now.

I hear a crunch when I bite into the soft tender meat as the fresh smell of chicken wafts through the kitchen.

Then I inhale deeply, counting till five, and then exhale. I held a chicken wing to my face, and there on the skin, I see something move. I squinted at the chicken and immediately recoiled in disgust. The chicken slipped out my hand and fell to the countertop.

I gulped down the sensation of nausea and staggered to the sink. Something inside the very depths of my stomach churned. A profound taste overwhelms me; whatever it was, brushed slightly against my tongue.

"Blueghh."

I vomited on the kitchen sink; I'll spare you the details but I have to admit that it was an awful sight. The chicken on the counter contained what seemed to be sentient beings.

After wiping my mouth, I returned to the chicken. I flinched as I imagine the tiny beings crawling on my skin: worms crept on my chicken dinner, thus my immense love for fried chicken vanished, my love for the world was hit faster than a speeding truck, as such, a portal opens. I enter and tumble into the lost passages of time.

"Farewell, humanity has disappointed me. Let us begin once more with the big bang."