The Betrayer Is Betrayed

You know that old saying, "No delicious chicken for the fickle?" Okay, so maybe it's "No rest for the weary." Or as my second-best ol' ex-teaching buddy Karen used to say, "No rest for the wicked." She also favored "I can read you like the back of my hand," and "I know you like a book." But mangled sayings are not the topic today.

It's no secret that Mrs. Hillbilly Mom LOVES gas station chicken. Which she always gets at The Gas Station Chicken Store. Except last Friday. You see, Mrs. HM always pays cash at The Gas Station Chicken Store. But with Farmer H's need for a gambling bankroll each Saturday in March, in order to get free American Tourister luggage at the casino, Mrs. HM was running short on the weekly cash allowance Friday. The rest of it was earmarked for Farmer H to lose.

I could have gotten cash back at The Devil's Playground to use for chicken or casino. But that's not a habit that I want to get into. I did, however, reason that I could just get a container of The Devil's Chicken while I was doing the shopping, thus making the cash dilemma moot. It's not like I was saving any money. It was just a matter of the distribution of the cash itself. The grocery order was going on the debit card, and the cash could still be allotted to Farmer H.

We've had The Devil's chicken before. It's a different recipe, and more breading than The Gas Station Chicken Store uses. Not quite as good, in my opinion. But Farmer H likes it. And it would be something quick for him to grab before going to the auction Friday night. Except, once I got that chicken home, Farmer H wanted me to make him fish on Hawaiian Rolls with curly fries. No big deal. Only more work for me, but that's not really his concern.

I didn't mind all that much, because I could always have The Devil's chicken the next day. And the next. I like chicken. I made Farmer H's fish and fries, and after he left for the auction, I put my chicken in the oven to warm up.

THE DEVIL'S CHICKEN WAS HOT AS NOT-HEAVEN!

Seriously! Who would have thought that? It's never hot. I mean SPICY hot! Like it had been soaked in a vat of Frank's Original Red Hot Sauce before deep-frying. And after. The chicken coating didn't look any different. But that thigh almost burned my mouth! Good thing I had many ounces of Diet Coke left to put out the fire.

That's not right, people! I bought an 8-piece container of The Devil's fried chicken as usual. Nowhere did it say that it would be FLAMING HOT. I guess they sell both versions, and somebody put in a mixture. The breast was not hot. Nor the thigh I had the next day.

I guess I should have stuck with the gas station chicken. Never trust The Devil.