At first, I thought it was a mistake. A fortuitous happenstance. A once-in-a-lifetime event.
But then it happened again, a third time, and now I've come to expect it, but still with excitement and wonder.
I keep getting extra pieces of fried chicken! Every time I go to my favorite neighborhood chicken shack for lunch as a treat for working extra-hard, I am rewarded. Three legs instead of two. An extra wing thrown in. And today, the ultimate surprise:
Eleven pieces of chicken in an 8-piece box! What joy!
This is an unmistakeable sign that my earlier hypothesis is correct: a fried-chicken man is in love with me. This idea was first formulated by Bubba several months ago, when I recieved an extra bounty in my lunchbox and he did not. From then on, I ordered all of the chicken. I began to credit the idea one day when my order number was not just shouted out and my chicken bag passed through the window between the back and the register- it was brought out from the back and handed to me personally by one of the fried-chicken men and not given to the cash-register man at all. I made sure to smile at him.
Raised a few eyebrows then she went on down alone
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