Guest Article: KFC

Hey y’all, it’s the one who usually writes stuff here, and I’ve got some exciting news.  You get a break from me!  Due to a lack of money and time recently, I haven’t been to a restaurant that’s made me sick in a while, or even a restaurant at all, for that matter.  Because of this my ol’ chum Ben has stepped in and agreed to write a guest article over here.  You can check out more of his incredibly witty insight here.

Today I’ll be ‘reviewing’ a restaurant that probably everybody knows. A chain that, according to their website, has locations in over thirty countries around the world. This is the restaurant KFC, formerly known as Kentucky Fried Chicken.

Behold the face of evil

On the surface, it seems that KFC is a great plan for a family meal. They have so many combos and buckets it’s like they are actively trying to get families through their doors. That is exactly why my father decided it would be a good place to eat.

Let’s all get our arties clogged. As a family.

We all agreed on splitting an Extra Crispy bucket with coleslaw. Everybody but my younger sister, that is. She just got a couple biscuits and a tub of gravy, which would be her salvation.

“Don’t eat the chicken, there are things you must be alive to do.”

As we dug in, we noted the chicken tasted a little weird, but we attributed it to the fact that it was crispier than that which we were accustomed to. The softness of the meat was just because it had more time to suck up the oils it was cooked in. It was not.

Later that night, I was feeling woozy. My father told me to ‘stop acting like that’, since we were visiting my great grandmother at the time, and he did not want to give her a bad impression. After we said goodbye and went back to our motel, he started feeling the same way. My mother and older sister did too. My younger sister did not.

This is exactly how she responded to her family’s illness. Little punk.

That night was full of people taking turns to throw up. It was made worse by the fact that there is typically only one bathroom per room in a motel. I would tell you how many times my body tried to rid me of my chicken that night, but after five you stop counting. So while this restaurant did not actually shit blood, I am sure some blood came through my mouth when my stomach discovered it had emptied itself two trips to the bathroom ago.

Overall, I give this

4 OUT OF 5 PINTS OF BLOOD

One for every afflicted member.  KFC hates families.

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