Hot Hot Hot Chicken
I had this for dinner. Well not exactly this this, but you get the idea. You know its good when you get out of the car and the humid air is heavy with grease. Even the handle to the store is slick with it. There’s an old security guard who might not be able to chase you down, but he’s got a pistol to make you think twice. The chicken is a golden red, black in some places. And it hurts. My eyes watered. Snot dribbled out my nose. My mouth burned and my forhead tingled with heat. Mysterys of the universe were revealed to me and life itself teetered in the balance. Also I had to make a mad dash for the milk before my mouth actually caught fire. In the nooks on the wing there lives a heat you can’t even imagine. But its soooo good.
Prince’s Hot Chicken, Nashville Tennesse. I’m gonna miss you.
I stole this picture. And now I’m gonna eat some ice cream. Purity of course.
