Some Very Serious Chicken News

We’re getting a fried chicken restaurant in my town and to be honest, I should be happier about this than I am. In fact, I am a bit on edge about it.

Apparently, the food at this up-and-coming American restaurant is so good, people go crazy when they can’t get it. On Monday night, in Houston, for example, an armed group of people rushed the door of one of these dining establishments demanding chicken sandwiches.

Restaurant employees reported a mob of two women, three men and a baby were told at the drive-thru that the chicken sandwiches were sold out, a bit of bad news that apparently triggered the would-be customers, especially the baby who threw a total fit, over the top, in fact, even for a baby.

That is when the hungry gang took matters into their own hands and tried to get inside the restaurant. One man pulled a gun on the employees, but a restaurant worker was able to lock them out.

When you work at one of these restaurants, you need to be skilled at thwarting attacks by armed mobs. I am sure their pay scale takes into account the potential dangers of serving up dead chickens to terrorists.

Call me chicken, no, don’t call me that, when discussing this serious food-service matter. Maybe coward would be better terminology. But I don’t want to be walking past this new restaurant in my town some night and have to put up with armed would-be diners, especially baby diners.

I can just see me getting involved somehow, as I pretty much get involved in everything, and I don’t think that would turn out well for anyone. In fact, if I was really hungry, who knows what side I might be on? I might take the baby hostage and demand four chicken sandwiches as ransom. Could happen.

This would seem to be out of character given the mild-mannered person I present myself as, but hunger has often had the effect of changing a person.

This new dining place is a fast-food restaurant. Normally, that would describe how quickly a hungry customer can get his food. But in this case, my guess is “fast” would describe the speed at which you would have to run away after pulling a gun on the staff, as law enforcement will try to get there as fast as they can.

And it has been my experience that running from the scene of a crime with a baby in your arms can truly complicate the getaway.

Oh, the humanity.

©2019 Jim Hagarty

Author: Jim Hagarty

I am a 72-year-old retired journalist, busy recovering from a lifelong career as an unretired journalist. This year marks a half century of my scratching out little fables about life. My interests include genealogy, humour and music. I live in a little blue shack in Canada and spend most of my time trying to stay out of trouble. I am not that good at it. I also spent years teaching journalism. Poor state of journalism today: My fault. I have a family I don't deserve, a dog that adores me, and two cars the junk yard refuses to accept. My prized possessions include my old guitar and a razor my Dad gave me when I was 14 and which I still use when I bother to shave. Oh, and my great-great-grandfather's blackthorn stick he brought from Ireland in the 1850s. I have only one opinion but it is a good one: People take too many showers.