Chicken with Rice Chicken

I have a rhythm now. A daily loop in a weekly loop of bus tickets, lunch, coffees, correct change and 600ml of milk on the weekends. My life is a well oiled machine. You know, besides the encroaching insanity.

The lunch part of all this is a small takeaway soy chicken with fried rice. On Wednesday there was a long black hair in it. For whatever reason I thought, ah fuck it, I’ll just eat the hair. No big deal, kind of like when a bug flies into your mouth and you think, ah fuck it, and just swallow. A bit of entomophagy never hurt anyone.

Thursday rolls in, lunch arrives, I go back for my small takeaway soy chicken with fried rice, planning on a little sleuthing to see who matches the hair. You may be a step ahead of me here, but it’s a Chinese takeaway shop. So process of elimination it was not.

I get back to my desk and begin chowing down, when I come across a shard of plastic in the rice. And fucking sharp plastic too. I’m not talking like, the floppy stuff that the sides of sunglasses are made out of. I’m talking about like, really hard, sharp plastic. Fuckers. They did the hair on purpose, and when I came back for more, they raised the stakes. Well fuck them, I’m not giving them the satisfaction of saying anything or taking my soy chicken business elsewhere.

Day three: a crab claw. I shit you not. I didn’t see it because it was the same pink as the undercooked chicken, but my teeth gave me some fairly distinctive feedback about the nature of what I was chomping. It broke into about 17 gritty shards of crab hand and spread to all corners of my mouth. At which point everyone I’ve ever known came up to my desk in a long queue wanting to talk to me about fucking something. I did the hand motion for I’ve got a mouthful, and most of it’s claw, and if you’d kindly fuck the hell off I plan on spitting the majority of it out.

I can’t wait to see what I get on Monday. My money is on either a matchbox car or acid.

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