KFC – a secret recipe love story

Our latest column from William Thomas

Bill Thomas

Last Mother’s Day, Kentucky Fried Chicken released a steamy romance novella: Tender Wings Of Desire. They described it as a “brief escape from motherhood into the arms of your fantasy Colonel.” Said KFC’s director: “The only thing better than being swept away by the deliciousness of our Extra Crispy Chicken is being swept away by Harland Sanders himself.” Tender Wings Of Mercy was released on Mother’s Day to promote KFC’s “$20 Fill Up.’ Add your own “oil change” joke here.

I know what you’re thinking … are you sure it was Mother’s Day and not KFC’s April Fools Day … “The Spring Chicken Special”?

The heroes of the story are a hunk named “The Colonel” and the other, a runaway teen named Lady Madeline Parker. In short order Lady Madeline runs away from home, takes a job as a barmaid at the Admirals Arms in an unnamed harbour town and falls in love with a rippled Colonel Sanders who happens to be a sailor. “His hair was light and fair, framing his head in airy curls.” Really? Because I remember ol’ Harland as being white-haired and chubby, smirking like he’s just swallowed a canary … or as it’s called at KFC … an appetizer. I like to think The Colonel loved KFC so much he had to be Heimliched on a daily semi-regular basis.

Madeline’s first kiss with The Colonel comes with so much secret sauce, she blows lunch all over his cute look sailor suit … no, sorry. Madeline’s first kiss liberates her sexually, she sleeps with the Colonel, becomes his fiancee and then finds out he happens to be the wealthy owner of a chicken restaurant empire in Kentucky.

Wow! I did not see that one coming. I thought, as barmaid at the Admiral’s Arms she might eventually reject the drunken sailor Sanders and fall into a same-sex relationship with the married woman next door who owned the fish & chips shop, thereby marrying into Mrs. Paul’s Frozen Fish empire. Relax. At no time does Bob Evans Sausage make an appearance in this story.

Not sure about Tender Wings Of Desire. I’d go with a more realistic story line, characters you can relate to and … I’d go with Chicken Fingers On Your Thigh, Feathers On Your Tush.

He was brutally handsome, she was skinny and plain. He offered to let her go ahead of him at the counter; she told him to get stuffed.

Clerk: “So that’s one stuffed popcorn chicken. You want poutine with that?”

Then she spotted the black bow tie, the nerdy, black-rim glasses and the small, subtle chicken bone pierced through his nose. She was besotted!

“No poutine,” he said, “but could I get an extra breast?”

He had her at “poutine.” She wanted him, now. She wanted him more than a Mixed Bucket Feast slathered in spicy Buffalo sauce.

“I’ll give you an extra breast,” she said, “if that’s what you want. I’ll have a third one implanted right here in the middle.”

He had a nasty reputation as a cruel dude, he could see was lonely, hungry and crude. They had one thing in common, they loved KFC. She had named her dog Drumstick. He had the 1,228 calories Double Down Sandwich tattooed on his ass. She once did a topless selfie with a stranger who brought her a KFC Deluxe Shake. He once ate the 20 piece Original Bucket Meal in one sitting … including the bucket. Instead of photos of family members, they both kept Value Fun Meal coupons in their wallets. It was all too finger lickin’ good to be true.

They were two crazy American kids with sauce-splotched lips sucking face and greasy hands wandering everywhere like blind mice on a mole hill. Suddenly it was head over heals, ass over tea kettle, alabaster thigh against swollen Nuggets crazy kinda KFC love. Out of nowhere came the sound of a chicken being choked.

She was a struggling pop star trying to distance herself from her famous father, a country and western one-hit-wonder. He was just a guy who walked out of an Eagles song, taking some of the lyrics with him. They were lying on their backs now in a park, the grass the colour of coleslaw. A beautiful orange butterfly flew lazily, ten feet above their heads. As he pointed toward it, she nailed it with her tongue. Astonished, he watched her tongue recoil into her mouth but not before she spat the endangered Monarch onto the grass.

“Oh my God,” he said. “You’re Miley Cyrus!”

“Miley Ray Cyrus,” she said moodily. “MRC for KFC! Get it?”

“Your father is Billy Ray?”

“That’s what everybody thinks. Truth is, my real father was The Colonel himself. And you?”

“Harland,” he said and the cracking of his voice surprised even him. “Harland Sanders Junior.”

So next Mother’s Day, don’t forget KFC’s special gift pack “The Inbred Family Bucket With Chicken Tongues And Squeaky Beaks.” It’s the treat the whole family can enjoy.

For comments, ideas and copies of The Legend of Zippy Chippy, go to www.williamthomas.ca.



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