And a Bucket of Fried Chicken

We live across the street from a KFC/Taco Bell combo.  Because sometimes you can't decide whether you want Popcorn Chicken or a Spicy Cheesy Grande Supreme Taco.... or both.  Luckily I have only succumbed to this desire once, and I ordered one taco off of the "fresco" menu.  Why do people think that because something is listed on a menu labeled as "fresh" written in Spanish, that its healthier?  It is neither fresh nor healthy when coming from a fast food chain such as this.  And judging by the amount of large cockroaches I see roaming the streets nearby, I can cross sanitary off its list of attributes.  That taco however, was amazing...doused in hot sauce sporting some hilarious quip on its tiny packet.


There is a stretch limo parked outside my house right at this very moment, and the person I'm assuming to be the driver has also succumbed to his KFC/Taco Bell desires.  He purchased himself a bucket of chicken.  How many calories are in this bucket of chicken I cannot guess, nor can I assume there to be much nutritional value allotted to such a bucket, but that is obviously of no concern to Limo Driver.  He got in the back seat to eat his bucket, I'm guessing because the windows are tinted back there and he didn't want anyone to see him eating an entire bucket of fried chicken himself.  But I know, Limo Driver, I know your secret.  I know you have grease on your chin and wiped your fingers on your pants.


Do you remember the days when a limo was enough of a status symbol that it didn't need to be doubled in length?  Unless you're carting around 12 people, is a stretch limo really necessary?  Or maybe you need that much space between yourself and your driver because he has bad fried chicken gas and you'd rather not smell it.  


I've come to the conclusion that Dexter makes me look like a nicer person.  Whenever I'm outside with Dexter, wherever we go, everyone wants to talk to me and tell me things about their life they probably wouldn't be telling other random strangers.  They want to show me things they own and give me advice about how to live my life.  Dexter is my alter-ego.  He is adorable and extroverted and overly friendly.  He wants to say hello to everyone he sees and will thrust himself in their path to do so.  He stops to smell the roses and sniffs the air as if hope is the scent being carried in the breeze.  Dexter would eat an entire bucket of chicken with fury and show no remorse.  He has no regrets.


Upon further inspection, I've decided that Man With Chicken Bucket is not the driver at all, but someone who is too embarrassed to give in to his KFC dreams in his own neighborhood.  Secrets cannot be kept from someone who works from home.