Saturday, July 14, 2012

Poop Chicken

So, just an hour ago I was at the kitchen counter cutting tomatoes and peppers while my husband was right outside the kitchen window grilling the chicken that would be on our delicious grilled chicken salads . . . when suddenly - I SMELLED POOP.

That's right, I smelled poop and it was strong.  However, just as quickly as the scent came to me, it was quickly gone.  I just stood there like: "WTF, why did I just totally smell poop?"  Even though the stench had disappeared, I started sniffing the counter frantically, and then the lettuce and the veggies and finally even the floor. Yes, I was on my hands and knees sniffing the floor hoping to find poop so I could take care of it.

Nothing.

I stood up and distractedly went back to my preparations, keeping a nostril alert.  After a little while I sort of forgot about it and then, once again out of nowhere, POOP SMELL.

I CANNOT BE BOTHERED WITH POOP!

Oh. My. God.  I resumed my sniff-search until a moment later I was interrupted by my husband calling that the chicken was done. I decided once again to let it go, and I went outside with the salads.  My husband took them so he could put the grilled chicken on top and I went to sit down at the patio table.  A moment later he brought to me my lovely plate of food and I picked up my fork just as the smell of poop filled my nose again.

"What the f**** do you smell that?"  I said to him.

"Smell what?" he asked.

"Poop!  I keep smelling poop!"

He sniffed a few times and told me that he did not smell anything even remotely like poop.

"I am not imagining this," I told him.  "I smelled it in the kitchen and I smell it out here now."

I started sniffing my plate.  There was nothing at first and then my nose got right next to a piece of chicken and it might as well have been a piece of shit because it smelled exactly like it!

"Oh Christ this chicken totally smells like shit," I cried to my husband.

He sniffed again and again but he insisted that to him it did not smell like shit.  I don't exactly remember the next few words or what could have made me decide to cut the chicken and take a bite . . . maybe just good old fashioned denial . . . but I cut that chicken, stabbed it with my fork, put a chunk of salad and tomato on with it and put it in my mouth.  At first everything was OK.  I chewed and swallowed and it tasted fine and then . . .

"Oh . . . my God.  I am going to throw up.  This chicken totally has the after taste of SHIT!"

My husband was stunned because he did not smell or taste anything unusual, but still, as I unloaded all of my poop chicken onto his plate, unable to eat any of it and shocked that I could still eat the salad, he became increasingly uncomfortable with the entire idea, especially because after about a minute the smell drifted to me yet again and I covered my mouth and made a gagging sound and mumbled something about shit and chicken and vomit.  Eventually I noticed that all of his chicken was off to the side of his plate and he said that, even though he didn't smell anything, my discomfort had gotten to him and now he couldn't eat it either.

Why in God's name would grilled chicken smell and taste just like poop?

Well, since we hardly ate any dinner, now we can have ice cream.  I will NOT be getting hard chocolate!

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