Posted by: DD | April 16, 2008

no. 638 – Now What Part Exactly Do Chicken “Fingers” Come From?

Coincidently to the prior post, I notice the door to the laundry room is open while we were sitting down to supper. I bit my tongue instead of creating a scene ripe for a food fight and once we had finished eating, went to address my OCD wife-iness.

Before I shut the door, I saw a zip lock bag sitting on the floor full of yellow, powdery stuff. "Aw, hell, now what hazardous material has that man brought into our house now?" I thought. First let me show you what I saw:415_078

It looks innocuous enough, doesn’t it?

I go to stand over it, while also trying to figure out why that stupid bucket is sitting in the middle of the floor (I have a few like that in the basement and there are several in the shop, leftovers from our cat-owning days, so it didn’t immediately strike me as whacked).

When I did, something in the bucket moved. I startled. I leaned in for a closer look…



Kind of.

My mother dropped these off for us, presumably for XBoy.


Don’t ask what will happen next to them. Mr. DD is less than pleased with his MIL and asked if I was going to take them out and shove them down a badger hole. After briefly considering it, of course I told him no.

We haven’t told XBoy yet. I’ll wait to see if they make it 24 hours in the house, which is unlikely. It’s probably not warm enough for them, even though I have the bucket situated over that heat vent and have the opening draped with a towel to reserve heat. I even threw in some easter grass for them to sit in instead of that lid with food.

Normal kids get goldfish. Grandchildren of farmers get livestock. And since it will be impossible (whether physically or mentally) to flush these poor bastards down the toilet if they die, I’ll also be out in the field somewhere digging a shallow grave.


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