(http://photos1 NULL.blogger NULL.com/x/blogger/1255/960/1600/217135/KFC%20Logo%20High%20Quality NULL.jpg)OK OK OK. This is my favorite new commercial. Really people, watch commercials. You will learn so much about where our interests as a culture lie. Or at least you’ll see what the “big wigs” think we care about which most of the time become true since we were told they were. (end diatribe). In a KFC commercial, a black family (you know they just looove their chicken) passes around a bucket at a dinner table. The youngest son sitting there overshadowed by his older brothers and parents watches them take out pieces of chicken and says to himself, “Don’t take the drumstick.” He says it again hoping that someone, anyone will leave him that most coveted part of the foul. Of course, he sees someone take out the 2nd drumstick and deflates with defeat. The bucket gets to him moments later and his mother pulls out (wait for it) a DRUMSTICK! She places it on the boy’s plate and he exclaims with happiness “Another drumstick?!” He. Is. Dumbfounded. His mother smiles as if to say I got your back and says, “Special Bucket.” Something like that. OH FRABJOUS DAY! CALLOO CALLAY! He chortled in his joy.
HA! My first thought was don’t eat that! That came from a MUTANT chicken with 3 legs!! You were right! There should have only been 2 drumsticks, but no, that bucket is special. Knowing the practices of KFC, I’d be relieved if it was a 3 legged chicken. That would be the least altered thing they have on their farm/factory/slaughterhouse/laboratory. Most likely the leg came from a genetically altered chicken that was nothing but legs. Just a meaty legged deformity with limbs coming out all sides making it look like a feathered tetrahedron. No head. No wings. Just legs. Eyes embedded in one of the legs and a slit that works as a mouth. It makes only one sound and its not a cluck by any means. Just a shrill high pitched shriek. A sound akin to a bomb dropping in a cartoon, or a imprisoned banshee locked in a withered castle 2 miles north of Glasgow, or a shitty car with a shitty engine driving down a ghetto street at 3am making everyone sit right up in their bed thinking their time has come. When the noise of the “chicken” hits the ears of any other being it makes them think “My God! Hell is on earth and I am burning!”
After a week of rolling from limb to limb questioning its own existense after having realized that it looks nothing like any thing else around (they’re all aberrations – veritable snowflakes of malformation), it sees something its never seen before. A man. Towering over the mutant in red boots and a red apron. Both of which did not come in the color of red. Oh no, they turned that color in time due to his line of work. And what’s that in his hand? Its oh so shiny…and thin. CHOP. Suddenly the prism of drumsticks line up. After the leg that functioned as the head is separated and fed to the 5 winged chicken breast sloth which sweats sugar, the other pieces are shipped away to be served to the complacent public.
Its just a wild guess, but when the word Special is uttered, make sure to get a very clear definition.