Make. It. Stop.

The Universe continues to conspire against Mrs. Hillbilly Mom! Continues, I say, to meddle with her food sources!

Let the record show that I haven't been to The Devil's Playground in nigh on a month. Country Mart and Save A Lot have sufficed. But Thursday, I resorted to The Devil for his line of faux Pepcid (mint flavor) tablets, and Farmer H's giant bottles of flavored water, and a few odds and ends like broccoli slaw mix, and Great Value Sugar Free Cherry Limeade powder.

There wasn't much on my list. I went through the deli first, and picked up some already-packaged chicken wings. I could see through the top, so I was fairly confident that I knew what I was getting. I'd have preferred the plain ones rather than ranch, but when you get there after 2:00 p.m., you take what you can get. What they should warn you is: "B-b-b-baby, you ain't seen nothin' yet!"

When I was putting the wings on a foil-covered pizza pan for oven-warming, I was SHOCKED to find a non-edible wing section at the bottom of the pack.

SERIOUSLY?

Nobody eats that section! It's the part that you twist off and feed the dog. It's nothing more than goose-fleshed (or chicken-fleshed) skin, with little feathery stick-out thingies, unsuitable for human consumption! It's neither a drum nor a flat, as the deli ling goes on chicken-wing parts. It's the fingers! The bony section with only skin over it. Nothing to eat! Unless you want chewy, unswallowable skin coated with breading, fried in grease.

I, myself, did not. Juno and Jack, definitely.