When you died the experience was, on the whole, less than
pleasant. Your head was removed from
your body, which continued moving, unbidden, for half an hour as its nerve
endings fired randomly, dumbly seeking meaning and guidance amidst a sudden
absence of sensation. You thought, at
that point, that things were probably going to be more or less over for you,
but boy howdy, was your stupid ass ever wrong!
Because today you're moving to the big city: New York! You're going to be shipped from Beijing (which,
granted, is actually a larger city than New York, but it's filled with Chinese
people, who don't count all the way) and today, when you arrive, stuffed into a
crate with other chicken corpses, you'll be thrown on to a truck and driven
from the docks to Chinatown, where you'll be ripped from your corpse brothers
and put on display in a window. After a
few hours there, baking in the midday sun, an elderly man will like the look of
your featherless body and purchase you from your erstwhile owner. From there you'll head back to his restaurant
in the heart of the big city.
Overall, it'll be a big day for you. You'll see more of New York in a few hours of
unlife than some of its residents see in a year, but once you're in the
restaurant, your travels will be at an end.
You'll be gutted, parceled out, and then prepared for a young Chinese
diplomat.
This ambitious young man will spend almost his entire
evening berating his server, who will in turn convey this young man's anxiety
to the kitchen staff who will, in turn, fail to prepare you properly (which was
pretty likely anyway - the kitchen staff will be Chinese, and they'll be making
French food). You'll be served up to the
diplomat long before you're safe to eat and the diplomat, young and greedy and
certain of his own immortality, will scarf you down in a few minutes. Then he'll throw money on the table and walk
out, flanked by bodyguards, to find a prostitute to terrorize for the rest of
the night.
This won't be the end for you, or at least for the bacteria
that infested your body during your long and unsanitary journey. It will grow in the diplomat's stomach,
culturing there until it subsumes all of his normal bodily functions, until it
begins to take over not only his stomach and lower intestine but the muscles
surrounding it until, after a few days of pure agony, he dies, vomiting and
shitting himself to death.
Since this young diplomat would've become the next great
dictator of the world, since he would've, in a senseless grab for power,
would've ignited World War III, scarring the earth with nuclear weapons, since
he would've forever snuffed out the flame of human civilization, you should
feel pretty good about murdering him with your filthy body. Kudos to you, friend!
Congratulations Undercooked Chicken!
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