The night of the funky chicken!

There once lived a veggie loving fruit queen named Lucinda who birthed a little pixie named Fiona. In the kitchen of their castle was an abundant supply of fruits, vegetables and butter. They were carnivores by definition but their meals consisted primarily of vegetables. This is because the queen is a budget conscious woman and produce is economical. Furthermore, both the pixie and the queen prefer to eat meat produced in a way that it was given a life worthy of it’s sacrifice and a steady supply was not available at their castle in far far away from farmtown.  Then one day the queen crossed paths with the King of Carnivores. He wooed her with his knowledge of agriculture and his homemade meat smoker. And when he took her to the farmer’s market and gifted her with farm fresh eggs she knew that he was a man after her own heart.

The King’s meals consisted mostly of meat and a meal was not a meal to him without a large portion of animal protein. Why? Because he is carnivore hear him roar.

The Queen took domain over the produce and the King was in the charge of the meat. The little pixie was official taste tester and cookie monster.

All was well in the Land of Food…

Then came the night of the funky chicken and best intentions gone awry.

The Queen was in her chambers working away and the King decided he would make supper for his fair lady. Smoked Chicken on a Beer Can.  He labored away on the chicken making sure the temperature was perfect on the smoker and even incorporated produce into cooking the chicken.

When complete the flavor was wonderful but the queen, being an expert in the taste of good ingredients, did not need to see the empty Purdue packaging in the trash to know that this chicken was a funky chicken. Although the King cooked it to perfection, she explained to him that part of the meal was the experience and eating tortured chicken did not make for happy hearts.

She was grateful for his efforts but respectfully requested that he refrain from purchasing funky chicken. He agreed but in his adolescence ways could not refrain from leaving clucking noises on her voicemail with the message, “it’s the funky chicken calling.”