Fuck Out My Face: Popeye's Chicken
“With a tear in my eye, this is (not) the greatest moment of my life.” – Nature Boy Ric Flair
Understand that this is the most difficult thing I’ve ever written in my life. Popeye’s & I have had a relationship going back to when they were Popeye’s Chicken & Biscuits, way before the Louisiana Kitchen came into play. Popeye’s was there for me when McDonald’s was selling me nuggets made of scattered chicken ass. Popeye’s was there for me after I had drunken one-night stands with White Castle. Popeye’s was there for me & didn’t judge when I had to use coins from the ashtray in my cars to complete an order. I love you Popeye’s, but you stupid bitch you broke my heart.
Printed numbers on chicken, baby? This is what you do to me after years of love, affection, and attention? No that stamped number/lettering is not Cajun seasoning or ground fennel seed. That’s pure bullshit and makes me sick to my fucking stomach. So Popeye’s just been KFC this entire time? Selling me a dream while having another family like a Hait…Jamaican? (pardon me Trevor’s). Like I’ve been eating ink? This is like telling your man that he’s dating a hoe and he’s just in denial, “I love my baby mama, I’ll never let her go.” Yea, until she burns you with led poison and you growing an ear out your asshole.
To keep it all the way clean, good food shouldn’t cost what Popeye’s costs. I’m a chickenologist, a connoisseur, a chicken guru as my man Also named me; good bird shouldn’t cost a 2-trip MetroCard. Why did Popeye’s start selling shrimp? I get the Louisiana connotation but shrimp isn’t $5 people, they selling us cattail and we eating it like the pussy it is. The chicken isn’t even all that good to be really real with you, it’s convenient or should I say lazy bird like that hoe you were dating and friends tried to warn you about. Their biscuits are dry as Hilary Clinton’s mouth and you see her husband moved on up and around (fuck them both for the record). Church’s Chicken has better biscuits than Popeye’s but our loyalty kept us blind.
Popeye’s was charging us for sauce; think about what type of piece of shit you have to be to ask for money for a condiment. Imagine going to a restaurant and the waiter gives you a separate menu for the ketchup. Fucked up ain’t it? But we were under the spell from the ink and didn’t realize they were poisoning our bodies, minds and spirit.
As I’ve grown older and made my way around the land in search of poultry and all things fowl, I’ve discovered many a chicken and no I will not divulge that type of information without written consent from my Chicken Conglomerate. But I promise you that you deserve better than Popeye’s and the crackheads who hold the door open for you in hopes of a $1 so they can go buy coffee.
Things will never be the same again Popeye’s, you stupid filthy whore but the memories of me tasting you will last a lifetime. I did the sign of the cross out of respect for you every time I entered your walls. I would come inside of you with so much joy and after being in you; I’d fall asleep and wake up ready for round 2 of your love. We had something special but you were just a hoe in herbs & spices. I’ve never even seen Ms. Deidrie Henry at Popeye’s and this pains me but FUCK OUT MY FACE POPEYE’S.
Next week I will finally dispose of the monstrosity known as white socks. I mean seriously, how can you trust anyone who wears cop socks?