I'm waiting up tonight for the Christmas Chicken, who brings dozens of wings and perhaps a frosty, frothy beverage to those who have been at least moderately good throughout the year.
Last year I was bad, and got a can of Spam (I ate it fried with a little wing sauce and it was edible).
Maybe this year, Santa Chicken will leave me a Hooter’s gift certificate along with the wings and suds. (Missus Chicken probably wouldn’t approve. Missus
Jimbo won’t either.)
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