We were on our way to KFC for dinner, because I’m classy that way and it’s only the best for my family.
I don’t know why I periodically crave KFC. I would guess that the 11th herb or spice must be crack cocaine, except that I don’t think they make a version of crack that you would crave only once or twice a year. Maybe it’s the mind-boggling number of different shapes of chicken you can get in a single store. It certainly isn’t the clear, informative menu posted behind the counter. My dear Colonel, as your friend I must tell you that your menu board has never enlightened anyone about the various manifestations of chicken and chicken-like products you serve. Your front counter is a reservoir of confusion, where customers and cashiers meet to gaze in wonder at the petroglyphs above and ponder their possible meanings.
Anyway, I was driving to KFC to get some spherical chunks of chicken for me and my family when my son called out from the back seat, “Hey look, I found some white trash.”
Okay, just because I have a sudden taste for KFC does not mean you get to call me names.
I glanced over my shoulder. The boy was holding up an old, curled register receipt. It was white and it was very likely trash. I was relieved that he was not, in fact, hurling an insult at me. I reassured myself that KFC was a fine, upstanding establishment and I was perfectly within my rights to enjoy one of its many incarnations of poultry.
At the store, the cashier and I went through the mutually baffling routine known as placing my order. We got most of what I thought I’d ordered, which I counted as a success, and went to eat in the pristine dining room for which all KFCs are famous.
Our dinner conversation settled upon the issue of whether our boys more closely resemble myself or my wife. People tell us one or the other, but we have never been convinced of a strong resemblance between either boy and either parent.
My wife asked our older son to put his face next to mine.
“Why?” he asked.
“Mommy wants to look at us together so she can tell if you look like me,” I explained.
His look communicated that he thought this a preposterous idea. Running his palm over the crown of his head, as if modeling his skull for Men’s Fitness Magazine, he replied, “I have lots of hair right here, so I don’t look like you.”
The kid was on fire, tonight. This one wasn’t a coincidence. This one was targeted shot. Fortunately, I am comfortable with the amount of hair on top of my head – more comfortable than I was with random chicken bits on my plate.
Lol. Damn you, now I’ll have a KFC hankerin’ all week! Some locations in MO have all you can eat buffets! And they wonder why MO is always on the fat list of states! That boy of yours is sharp.
Stay off the crack, Don. Just say no.
And that boy of mine is going to poke himself with his own sharpness one of these days.
I used to be hooked on KFC, then I was introduced to Popeyes. Ahhhh – It doesn’t get much better than Popeyes.
I don’t think we have Popeyes around here. And the more I think about it, the more I think that might be a good thing.
I marvel that whatever type of chicken I order, that particular variety just went in the fryer and won’t be ready for another ten minutes. But I always sigh and adjust because we all know it’s the potato wedges that keep you coming back.
Personally, I can’t get enough of the sporks.
I’ve gone to KFC and just ordered the biscuits. the best thing on the whole confusing menu.
When I was younger, I used to make a meal out of 3 biscuits and a side of gravy. Now that I’m old, I can’t eat that much bread, so I have to deal with the chicken.
Oh, I’m so glad that he really had found some white trash. This story would have been really sad otherwise 🙂
Just imagine the family dynamic that we would have going on if he’d used that phrase as adults do.
“I was perfectly within my rights to enjoy one of its many incarcerations of poultry.”
I can’t decide if that was an autocorrect error for incarnations, or if you did it on purpose, but either way I find it strangely amusing!
Autocorrect, or me thinking one word while typing another, which happens more often than you’d expect. You are right, it does add a whole new dimension to the thought. But now I’m a little embarrassed, so I have to go correct it.
You are a good parent. My children did not know chickens had bones until they were about 12. Too many McNuggets can lead to chomping down on the wrong part of the leg.
Oh, my boy has had his share of McNuggets, but that’s on his mother’s side of the family.
I have the feeling that you and your son resemble each other underneath those scalps. 🙂
Our brains are both fat and juicy. We’ll be big hits during the zombie apocalypse.
You have quite the sense of humor. I am new to your blog and already having a fun time looking around. Thanks for sharing these great posts!
Thanks for visiting, and feel free to roam wherever your interest takes you.