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Monday, January 09, 2006

PRECINCT CHICKEN

The other day I had a hankering for one of my periodic infusions of KFC, better known to those of us who are unafraid to date ourselves as Kentucky Fried Chicken, and I knew of one such location near the barbecue joint where I work, perhaps not so coincidentally near Greenwood Cemetery. Sadly, a large number of NYC chicken joints attract the dregs of humanity in the form of junkies, beggars and sundry criminal types, most of whom are, sadly and embarrassingly, my fellow highly rhythmic individuals. Many such establishments are frequently held up by firearms-wielding latter day Zulus, and since it’s perceived as “boogie-on-schvuggie” crime no one really cares, so the locals who frequent these establishments have adapted and learned to accept the unscrubbed interiors and six-inch-thick bulletproof glass battlements, along with the uncouth antics of the walking minstrel show rejects who infest them. If you want an in-your-face catalog of every negative black stereotype go to nearly any KFC in Brooklyn, Queens and the Bronx — not so much Manhattan anymore since most of them have been co-opted into the Reise restaurant conglomerate and can now be found in areas frequented by tourists and other such white people — and be prepared to cringe.

So anyway, I got off the bus near 28th street and trekked over to the KFC on Fourth Avenue. I entered and was astonished by the gleaming, obviously germ-free surfaces and floor, and the complete and utter lack of bulletproof shielding. The clientele consisted of a handful of Asians — who actually cleaned up after themselves when they finished their meal, unlike most of my highly rhythmic brethren at the one near my apartment — several elderly Hispanics and three black people (myself included, and the other two were an elegant lady and her well-behaved four-year-old), and the staff were all white kids…

“Have I stumbled into an alternate plane of reality?” I asked myself as my mind frantically grasped for an explanation as to how a chicken joint that was fit for humans could exist in this location, just a stone’s throw from an equally immaculate White Castle, the infamous burger chain/colonic Chernobyl that also caters to an unsavory segment of the population.

And then I realized what was up: located directly between the two restaurants was the neighborhood police precinct. The local cops appeared to be a well-fed lot รณ there is also a Dunkin Donuts across the street, and Heaven forfend that anyone should fuck with a gorging-source for our Boys in Blue…

These restaurants had to be the safest places in the area, and the staff of both smile cheerfully, secure in the knowledge that only the most cracked-out idiot with a death wish would ever entertain the thought of robbing them at gunpoint. So if you’re in the area and in the mood for secure bad eating, do drop in.

8 comments:

Jared said...

Out here in the suburbs we have are own fast food ghettos. The food courts at either of the local malls. They are scary for whole different reasons as they turn us from people looking for a places to eat into consumers of food. No cops necessary.

Da Nator said...

Oh, sure. Let's eliminate all danger from obtaining food. First you pussies are afraid to kill and gut your prey with your bare hands. Then you want your food to look like sanitized, pre-packaged, symmetrical blobs of soylent green. And now you want to avoid being raped, robbed or beaten while you eat. For shame, humanity.

Anonymous said...

I find Kentucky Fried Chicken is great for making huge, stinky poops. There was a mystery crapper where I used to work years ago who always clogged up the same toilet (we called it "The infamous 3rd stall") with his massive, otherworldly BM's. I think he was eating KFC for breakfast, lunch and dinner. Bunche and Jared can both attest to the evilness that routinely greeted us every time we went to take a wizz in that bathroom.

The horror....the horror...

Jared said...

C'mon John, we all know it was you clogging up that toilet in the third stall. Don't play dumb.

Anonymous said...

Nuh uhhhh...

It was YOU!! Admit it! Come clean.

Anonymous said...

In all seriousness, (and such an important, deep topic requires the utmost seriousness) did anyone ever fess up to being the Mad Crapper? Or is it just a mystery that the culprit will take to his very stinky grave?

If so, don't post any names... Unless it was you , Jared...

Jared said...

The secret of the Mad Crapper was never revealed to me.

Alysha said...

Bunche, you say to me, "Alysha," you say, "Alysha, you have to send me the link for that design your own hell compu-thingie," (rather, inferno) completely neglecting the fact that I don't have your e-mail. Ok, so you may not have said "compu-thingie" insofar as you, you know, didn't, but the concept and complaint remain the same. This was the only way I could think of to get it to you, so here it is, your moment of zen: http://www.gaydeceiver.com/misc/hell/ .

And so I'm not completely off topic, I too have frequented the startlingly clean 4th Avenue KFC as well as the White Castle (it wasn't for me, dammit), but lacked the acuity to buy a clue and solve the ol' puzzle. Thankee kindly.