The Chikin Eeter by Davie Burton

My work wife has asked me to relay this story for all the world to read. After debating about the embarrassment it will and has already caused me, I decided to throw caution to the wind and deliver this disturbing yet true story. A couple of years ago I got involved with a man who I will call Randy the Roofer. Why Randy the Roofer you ask? Because his name is Randy and he is a roofer. With that said, one could probably determine the sheer stupidity of this man by the fact that he allows his roofing business to go by the name of “Randy the Roofer.” However, in my blinded-by-love eyes, I thought the sun rose and set in Randy’s ass. That is until Valentine’s Day two years ago.

Randy’s birthday is the day before Valentine’s Day. I decided that I would make him a lovely birthday dinner and invite his brother and sister-in-law to join in the celebration. After inquiring about what he would like to eat, Randy said he would like fried chicken. Since I never really fry chicken I consulted with my wonderful Mother who fries the best chicken in the world. I painstakingly worked on this birthday meal and it was a delicious success. Randy’s brother and his wife raved over my fried chicken as well as the rest of the meal and the dessert. Randy, of course, was not feeling well so he could not enjoy my chicken at the time it was served. Actually, Randy never feels well. Randy whines and moans about everything. I thought the chicken was quite good myself; however, I do not suck the marrow out of the bone of a piece of chicken before I have decided I’m through with it and it is now ready to be thrown into the trash can. I then cleared the table, threw the scraps of remaining chicken from the plates into the trash and wrapped the rest of the chicken up and put it in the refrigerator for later enjoyment.

The next day was our first celebrated Valentine’s Day together. After listening to Randy on the phone with his brother talking about how we would celebrate our Valentine’s Day together, I began to get excited. He told his brother that he would have to consult with me prior to making any plans for the evening because it was our first celebrated Valentine’s Day together. I felt all warm and tingly inside anticipating a happy day with the man with whom I was in love. After deliberating over the fact that he had just paid to have my vehicle repaired, he determined that no real gift was in order. That was fine with me as I did not think in materialistic terms at the time because just being with him was all I really wanted. I gave him my loving Valentine’s card and he handed me the receipt for the repairs he had done on my vehicle. How thoughtful he was.

Finally, it came time to discuss our Valentine’s Day dinner. Randy decided that it would be best that we have a nice steak dinner together at home because he had not bothered to make reservations anywhere and of course one must make reservations on Valentine’s Day because there are people out there who do know how to celebrate the day properly. We made our grocery list and set out to the store to buy our Valentine’s Day goodies. It occurred only slightly to me that I would be the one doing all the work on this lovely Valentine’s Day dinner, but alas, I was in love. Randy and I ran into a friend of his who was buying a bottle of nice wine for his Valentine’s Day “date” who he had not known for nearly the time Randy I had been together. The wine was going to be consumed after the nice dinner he made reservations for a week prior to Valentine’s Day. On his way out of the checkout line he swooped up two lovely bouquets of wild flowers and explained that one was for his date and the other for his mother. Hearing this nice gesture, Randy in turn grabbed a bouquet of flowers—for his mother.

Upon our arrival home, I began to unpack groceries and began to prepare our steaks for the grill. I had to move the left over chicken I had wrapped up to make room for the other groceries so I knew that this chicken had not been opened or touched. While I was leaning into the refrigerator and Randy was standing next to the trash can, I stood and looked into his eyes only to see him eating a piece of my fried chicken. I thought for a moment, opened the refrigerator door, saw the wrapped chicken that had not been touched and I came to the only conclusion I could. I looked at this man who I was in love with and who I knew I would be kissing and I realized that he had pulled a piece of unfinished chicken from the trash can and was now eating it right in front of me. Of course he denied he did such a thing, but I knew better because in a moment of clarity that day it finally came to me what a cheap, disgusting pig of a man Randy truly is. For this reason, Randy is no longer known around here as Randy the Roofer. He is now referred to as the Dumpster Diving Chicken Eater.