I Swear on This Bible, Fried Chicken is an Aphrodisiac!

Summary

A woman defends her passionate outburst in a fast-food restaurant, attributing it to the aphrodisiac effects of fried chicken.

Abstract

In a small claims court testimony, a woman recounts an incident at her workplace where she and a coworker engaged in a public display of affection, influenced by what she describes as the aphrodisiac qualities of fried chicken. She details a sensual encounter while preparing chicken, leading to a series of intimate and unconventional acts in the kitchen, which were witnessed by customers and other employees. Despite the chaos and her previous record of similar incidents involving other foods, she maintains that the fried chicken's scent and the situation's heat overwhelmed her judgment, and she seeks understanding and dismissal of the case against her.

Opinions

The woman believes that the aroma of fried chicken acted as a powerful aphrodisiac, altering her behavior.
She does not regret the incident, viewing it as an expression of genuine emotion and passion.
She is unapologetic about the public nature of the incident, suggesting that love should not be confined or apologized for.
The woman is confident that her account of events will lead to the case being dropped.
She implies that the incident was not solely her responsibility, as her coworker was equally involved.
She questions the fairness of previous cases brought against her, hinting at a pattern of behavior influenced by food aphrodisiacs.

My testimony from the small claims court

Look, I could tell you that it was the way the moon shone in through those large bay windows. Or how his blue eyes glinted in the shimmer of the overhead track lighting. I could tell you that the rumble of the deep fryer really turned me on. But that would be a lie. And I’m not going to lie to you, because this is a court of law.

I may have mentally scarred the customers who stood by in ‘stunned silence’ (as the newspapers put it) while sullying three cases of raw and bloody chicken, but I don’t regret any of it. Those people witnessed raw chicken and even rawer passion, and I will not apologize for love!

I have opted to relinquish legal counsel because I believe, if you just hear me out, you’ll understand the powerful aphrodisiac qualities of a deep-fried chicken breast. You’ll therefore have to renounce your case as it will have become null and void.

It was the evening of February 17th. My coworker was teaching me how to drop the chicken into the industrial-sized fryer. His large muscular arms wrapped around my body as we lowered a basket of raw chicken into the top-loading cooker. I must say it was quite sensual— sort of like that scene in Ghost, you know the one. The chicken wasn’t the only thing getting hot that evening.

I looked over my shoulder to find his face right up next to mine. His breath hot on my greasy, floured cheek.

Oh, side note — I don’t know if you know this, but when prepping chicken pieces, you’ve got to rip off the asshole from the thighs as they do not come already prepared.

I noticed there was one of those very chicken assholes resting on his cheek. I turned around slowly and gently flicked it away with my tongue. I must point out that I, correctly, did not use my hands in order to avoid cross-contamination. I don’t see that in any of the reports of the “incident.”

As we looked deep into each other’s eyes, I knew that this could not go on. So I quickly moved out of his grasp and into the chicken cooler. I’d like it on the record that I was trying to COOL OFF, and that’s why I removed all of my clothes.

The timer went off, indicating that our chicken was ready to remove from the fryer. I peeked out of the walk-in cooler to ensure that my coworker was going to retrieve the chicken. The last thing we needed was a batch of burnt breasts on our hands.

Well, he noted that I was naked in there, and then I noted him noting me. If you know what I mean.

And that’s when the damn fried chicken smell hit me.

7 secret herbs and spices, and I could smell all of them. It’s like the oily aroma had done something to my brain, and I lost all sense of composure. It was the fried chicken, I tell ya!

So, fortunately for me, and most unfortunately for the other four employees and the families in the restaurant who caught the whole show through the kitchen’s viewing window, my coworker and I succumbed to our most base urges.

I admit, it was rather aggressive.

There was bitch slapping with raw chicken wings, an unholy scene with a mayo squirt gun and a lot nipple pinching with tongs. While re-watching the security tapes under police custody, I was floored to see my body could contort like that. And for a while, I didn’t even believe it was me on that security tape.

However, a close up of this mysterious character piggybacking their coworker while stuffing fries in his face revealed that, yes, it was in fact me.

I realize that none of this looks very good considering my previous record. But can you really hold a gal responsible while she’s under the influence of a fried chicken aphrodisiac?

And while we’re at it, can we reopen my previous soft ice cream, taco and Hawaiian pizza cases?