The Chicken Part Two: In the Trash
This chicken was a Chinese Chicken. Our favorite Chinese restaurant in the area was in a dingy little alley where the wind always blows chunks of trash into your eyes. Ci Lin with its red doors and cheap prices. My usual lunch was dumplings and curry fried rice for 4 Euro. Grease sliding out of the corners of my mouth, pieces of chewed rice and soy-sauce on my jeans.
For dinner I would switch it up though. This time I got sweet and sour chicken and white rice. It was actually leftovers - saving them for the eventuality of the drunk munchies.
On the table of the Cyst it sat. Over the span of the night I forgot about it. It wasn’t proper breakfast. I was at school for lunch. The Chinese Chicken faded into the back burners of my memory.
Days passed.
Then, on a bleak and rainy day I discovered that there was no food in the fridge. I would rather die on my military cot than change out of my robe. My hunger raged within. THE CHICKEN. It’s here somewhere. Where is it. Why has it disappeared? Who took it? MY Chinese Chicken.
I scoured the kitchen. On the table, under the table, in the oven, next to the sink, on top of the fridge, in the little dust-infested cavity between the fridge and the counter top. I was outraged and about to give up - retire into my bedroom and pass out - but then I looked in the last possible location: the pile of trash bags. There it was, in the trash bag with all the other trash.
Oh finally. I opened up the container that held the greasy old chicken and started eating it right there over the trash.
“Who threw this out? Wasting chicken. This’ll be worth it as long as I can hold it down.”
The Chicken Part One:
http://grosssgirl.tumblr.com/post/11841370941/the-chicken-part-one-on-the-table
