Here is a story that does not have anything to do with food.
by Dan Schwartz
I wanted to live in the land of bad decisions. In order to live in the land of bad decisions, you have to make some bad decisions.
I was drunk and I found myself in the middle of a farm. I thought I knew what I was doing. There were some free-range chickens just in the field, walking around. I had never seen a chicken before that wasn't breaded or grilled. These were real and in front of me.
I wanted to make them fight each other. First I tried running around them to get them into a circle, but I realized that wouldn't work. A fight would have to spring naturally from a conflict. I saw a chicken by itself, looking tough. I walked over to it, got real close and said, "That chicken over there? Says you're an idiot."
It pecked me in the face. It must have known that the chicken I was talking about was actually okay.
So I walked over to another chicken and grabbed it, and held it up. It started making chicken noises. I threw it at a pile of chickens.
And sure enough, these chickens started brawling. Oh, it was everywhere. These chickens were rough with each other, they did not hold anything back. A lot of chickens were stumbling out with broken limbs. Feathers were lost.
After a while I started to run away. I think they must have recognized that I had caused this, because I thought I saw them coming after me. I managed to escape safely, though.
Now whenever I go to KFC I wonder if those chickens still have the fighting spirit within them. If I could find the farm again, I'd want to go back. Of course they might have good memories, though. That's the problem with some of the things I do - once you do something, you're not welcome back there ever again.