I have been very shy since childhood. Even buying bread in the store is a feat for me. Showing a person the way is a surge of adrenaline. I'm not talking about random conversations. But more than my hikkyness, I hate chicken. When it comes to talking about it, I immediately begin to jitters. I hate chicken. I hate KFS. You will ask "Why? Did they piss on you right in this diner?"

If only they pissed.

Since childhood, when I saw this place in some movie, I dreamed of trying these delicacies. I have been preparing for this step for a long time. From the age of 20, I firmly decided - I will try their signature chicken. But I was warned, and I did not take stories seriously ... Just in case, I graduated from the school of public speaking and went to the martial arts section for three years. I spent thousands of hours in GTA San Andreas in those same eateries, imagining that I was actually there. Here in February I turned 28. I woke up and realized: "Yes. Today I'm ready." In the morning I told my parents that I was going to KFS. Naturally, hysteria, scandal, these cries: "Did you see what happened to Aunt Lyuba's Fedka? He also went to KFS" - I did not listen to anything, stroked my jacket, trousers, got dressed and left the house. Made it to the local mall. Went up in the elevator. And I see HIM. Colonel Sanders drilled me through with his sight. Through the glasses, in a black frame, I saw a silent question: "Are you ready, huh?". I swallowed and confidently said, "I can." After a little reflection in the spirit: “Is it appropriate to take off your shoes at the entrance?” I go into a small room. The red walls resembled the waters of the Don River, stained with the blood of the Mongolian troops and our brothers after the Battle of Kulikovo. I looked at the screen. God, how wonderful it was. Chicken, baskets, strips - ooh. I stood behind some girl in a light-colored jacket, beautiful dark hair and owl-shaped earrings. She looked at me appraisingly and smiled. I thought that really, not everything is as scary as they told me. The line moved forward, pleasant music played from the speakers. I looked at the screen and picked up the words. More precisely, he did not select, but rehearsed. I prepared the speech of my order while still at home. Even five years ago. It flew off my teeth. But then I realized that I had made a mistake. I could accurately reproduce my longed-for order, but I did not know how to place stresses! I was sweating. My knees shook. What is the right way to say? Ba'skets or Baske'ts? What? Why didn't I think of this beforehand. My eyes watered. I began to wipe them off with the sleeve of my jacket. It was terribly hot. The girl in front asked, "Are you all right?" "Y-yes-yes... Yes... I'm sorry," I mumbled. She smiled again and started doing something on her phone. One man. One person was left in line. And then I... What will happen to me? I'm afraid to turn around. I don't know how many people are behind me. Fuck. I tried to stop my trembling, I pinched myself, to no avail. Everything. The girl in front of me was told, "Here's your Coke, chicken burger. Potatoes will be a little later, please wait ... I'm listening to you. The friendly cashier looked at me with a smile and put down a new tray - especially for my order. I fell into a stupor. I stood for ten seconds without any words. “I am listening to you,” the cashier sang. I came to my senses. I say: “Good ... Good afternoon. I’ll have a small cola, please (as I thought well, about this nuance), a chicken burger and fries ... fries. The girl waiting in front of me looked at me and smiled. The cashier punched something on her strange machine and asked, "Anything else?" Confidence and adrenaline did the trick. "And baske'ts!". There was a deathly silence. The background music stopped playing - the speakers turned off. “What, what, did you say?” The cashier looked at me in bewilderment. The girl turned to me in surprise. "Bas-ke'ts" - I repeated in a trembling voice. The cashier smiled and said, “No, no, there was a mistake. You did not understand me. What did you pathetic fucking slug just say? SPEAK OUT LOUD. The girl in front of me burst out laughing. The cashier said, “I see,” and pressed a button under the counter. The door to the room was closed with a large metal sheet, the windows were covered with blinds. Someone twisted my arms and hit my face on the cash register. "I'm going to piss myself lmao," said the brunette.

I was taken to the kitchen. Chained to a huge chicken. All who were in the hall put on chicken masks. The cashier was wearing a rooster mask. “Now the administrator will come,” they explained to me. "ADMINISTRATOR," the patrons repeated in unison, like ministers of a secret cult. A man entered the room. He was wearing the Colonel's mask. The same one from the emblem of the institution. He told me for a long time the history of the origin of KFS, what ROSTICS is, told the biography of Sanders, the nuances of cooking their signature chicken, showed the musical “Attack of Chicken Zombies”, brought a couple of Afro-Russians who, God, raped me with their huge dicks while KFS anthem played, until I was shown charts of quarterly earnings and the competitive landscape between McDonald's, Burger King, and the holy KFS. I was told how terrible and vile the cults of the Jester and the King. That they are doing a good deed and that I have a very important role to play. Five hours have passed. It pains me to say and remember. But then they asked me the question: “What do you fucking creature know about the secret of the Colonel’s 11 signature herbs?” . I just shook my head. “So,” the Administrator continued, “now you will find out what the secret is.” They brought me a basin full of chicken skins. They ordered: "Eat," I obeyed. Then there were 10 more basins full of chicken beaks, feathers, rooster heads, chicken legs ... I ate everything. The Colonel asked me: "Did you want baske'ts?" I shook my head. And then they told me: "THEY ARE YOU." I always thought that when cartoon characters eat spicy chicken, they then grotesquely, exaggeratedly suffer on the toilet and start fire from the anal. I felt a terrible pain inside. “What have you done to me?” I shouted. Everyone prayed to the Colonel and Saint Hen. From my anal erupted infernal flames. Cultists brought chickens to my ass and fried them. Three hours later I gave birth to the chicken god, as the Colonel told me. I came out with an egg the size of an ostrich egg. A terrible mutant half-man-half-chicken crawled out of it. This creature approached the cashier, pulled down her jeans and proceeded to intercourse with vile, satanic swallowing. When it came, into this girl, who was still wearing a chicken mask, it let out a cry of "POK-POK-KUUDDA." A chthonic cry, absolutely alien to the human ear and consciousness. After the intercourse, this monster was kissed by every visitor of the stuff. The administrator brought a ritual ax with ancient runes: "This ax belonged to the chief of the Fire Rooster tribe from the reservation in Kentucky ... until we dealt with them," he explained with a smile. The infernal creature knelt down. The monster that escaped from my womb was cut off its head and sent to deep fat. I was lying with a stuffed stomach, a face in sperm, a torn and scorched anal. But no one paid any attention to me. The cafe doors opened. New people started coming in. Schoolchildren, hipsters and casual visitors. And I lay in the corner among the tables and sofas. Nobody paid attention to me. Only once a janitor came up to me and said: "You can go, rooster." I picked up my prolapsed rectum and walked unsteadily towards the exit. I already didn't care. As soon as I began to approach the exit, the “friendly” cashier shouted: “Come to us again!”, Stroking her tummy. Now you have been warned." I ask you to make the MAXIMUM repost, please. People must know the truth. The cult of the Chicken exists, I know it. The jester, the King, the Princess are also on the alert. Who knows how many more? We must stop them. But most importantly, by God, Anons, when I left it seemed to me that the Colonel from the logo winked at me ...