Wednesday, 16 November 2011

KFC = broken finger



So I am the first to admit that i have huge weakness for real food. Not veggies, not sweets but serious chicken and gravy. Beef and fries and deep fried anything. If I don't eat it all at supper It will no doubt haunt me all night until I return to the kitchen and scrape that plate clean, lick my chops and settle into a slumber of gut rot and indigestion.
This is nothing new for me. In fact I have balanced a bowl of ice-cream, a plate of chicken and a glass of milk up the darken staircase to sit in bed and eat it while watching "The Biggest Loser." Its ok, iI own it. Im thick and I'm furry and I'm all manly n shit. I am also a little greasy at times but its all good too.
One night I was awakened from a dream. It was a dreaming about KFC. I laid in bed thinking about whether it was worth driving to the late night drive thru before I realize there was indeed left over KFC in the fridge. Like a starving rabid dog after its prey I leaped out of bed naked, bolted down the stairs in my quest for deep fried protein. Somewhere around the turn in the stairs I sensed I was loosing my footing. It was dark, the house was asleep and I was not wanting to broadcast that I was running to the kitchen to eat chicken and salad at 2am. As I hit the curve of the staircase in what appeared to be a full sprint I lost my footing. My recovery was pointless. the darkness meant I could not see up nor down and I found myself flailing to the bottom of the stairs. My ass hitting each step all the way down until my left hand's middle finger got locked into the spindle and I slammed to a halt in agony... As every capillary in my body was engulfed in blood and my head just about blew off me all I could think about was that chicken and gravy.
At 195lbs I should have turned around and ran up the stairs but I was on a mission. The finger was clearly dislocated and the pain was intense. I thought about calling Darren to help me but I knew if I did he would not let me eat the chicken so, like all starving gays, I wrapped my busted hand in a towel, heating the chicken, poured a glass of chocolate milk and made my way upstair to binge. As I finished my "snack" of 3 pieces of chicken, gravy and milk I thought I should look at my finger. Oh. No. It was purple and swollen and looking pretty nasty. I licked the chicken juice off it and when to bed.
I still sneak down those stairs at night to eat shit that is not meant for bed and I still think I should loose 20lbs but I still think I am gonna eat a chicken if it is in the house.
Im a carnivore. I am a meat man. I would never sprint down the stairs for tofu or beans.
My finger is still jacked and popps out of place daily causing pain and a reminder of what sleep eating can do. The next time I run down the stairs in a nighttime question for KFC I promise to take my time and not fall. I will chew slowly so not to choke and I will not tell the whole world about it after. I am so tired but in the back of my head the is a little voice cling me..... "Hey Jay, its us, nachos... come eat us!"
Don't worry, I will walk slow and chew well and I will wake up and find the wrappers around my bed, hide the evidence, go to the supermarket and replace the crap I binged on the night before.
Like all my stories this one is totally exaggerated. Just don't ask Darren. He is a total lier!

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