The Armed Fried Chicken Robbery

We were drinking beers and playing Asshole. I was losing. I was the Asshole. I didn’t care, you know, because to be honest, I can be a control freak. And I guess the Asshole doesn’t have control of the game, but control of the cards. It was good enough for me and anyway, I was happy enough to sink back into the couch and sip Yuengling while I sneaked glances at Joe’s cards and Mark and Mike argued about throwing the game.

At one point, Frank gave his new friend Steve a $20 and firm instructions.

“If you want to go to Kennedy Fried Chicken, and you should, get as much chicken, biscuits and fries you possibly can.”

Steve took the bill and grabbed Frank’s pack of cigarettes. We went back to playing Asshole.

Eventually, the tension between Mark and Mike ripped the game in half, so we set up Rock Band and watched Mark prance around the room with the mic, belting Fleetwood Mac and changing the words so the chorus was a big send-up of Frank. We kind of forgot about Steve, who at this point, was running down Main Street with a steaming hot bag of chicken in his hands and a cigarette no doubt dangling from his lip.

YOU GUYS,” yelled Steve, as he entered in the back door. We lunged for the chicken and fries and ignored him.

Frank chewed a leg thoughtfully. “What took so long?”

WHAT TOOK SO LONG,” Steve began, out of breath from the cigarette or the run or the thirty extra points on his waistline from nights spent eating Kennedy Fried Chicken, “was a fucking robbery.”

We put our chicken down.

“A robbery?” I squeaked.

“Yeah. A fried chicken robbery. I even have video.” He whipped out his cell phone and showed us a 30 second clip of blurred people running around screaming in a fried chicken store. “See, I ordered the chicken and fries and biscuits like you said. And I waited around, right. But then when the guy handed me the chicken–through the bullet-proof glass–some dude ran in with a gun, grabbed the chicken, and ran!”

“Oh my god.”

“I know! Motherfucker took our chicken! But don’t worry guys. I made them make it over for us.”

We chewed the chicken thoughtfully. It tasted pretty good, and it was still hot.

We didn’t know him that well, but Steve was alright by us.


4 responses to “The Armed Fried Chicken Robbery

    That sounds like something that would happen at a Popeye’s in New Orleans.
    “We kind of forgot about Steve, who at this point, was running down Main Street with a steaming hot bag of chicken in his hands and a cigarette no doubt dangling from his lip.” – Gold. Seriously, comedy gold. Made my morning.

  2. Pingback: The Armed Fried Chicken Robbery by Subway Philosophy « Antiplath

  3. 1) I linked this to antiplath, had to.
    2) Sidebar: In my experience, once you’re the asshole it’s practically impossible to escape from that role, as you are forced to drink exponentially more than anyone else in the game, thus any remaining reason, logic and/or basic math skills are rendered inaccessible. Plus having a card stuck to your face all night is funny.

  4. Thanks, lady. There’s a Kennedy Fried Chicken near my apartment in the city. I might need to scope it out for more stories.

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