Mad science part deux

Okay, so where were we? Ah yes, the chickens.

This is where I really start feeling like some insane scientist. Not necessarily a mad genius, just some really really crazy person. First I have to remove the chickens from their plastic bag and drain all the DISGUSTING juice out. Sometimes it splashes my face - yeah. Sick.

Then I have to place them on two white trays; sometimes six to a tray, occasionally seven. Once there were three extras (but two were mini-chickens who apparently didn't eat their spinach). As I lay them out, and pull out any feathers missed by whatever dreadful place plucks them to begin with, I can't help but feel sorry for the poor dead frozen birds. What a horribly ignominious end to a sad and cloistered little life. How horribly undignified to be killed, plucked, frozen, and then laid out for the next step;

Rubbin' in the good stuff. That's right, those mouth watering herbs and spices that make the chickens soooo good. I have to liberally pour mysterious packets of what could be addictive chemicals used to bring customers back, for all I know. After I pour I have to massage the powders in for optimal flavor absorption, but it feels almost perverse in a creepy necromantic way.

I end the process by cruelly binding their poor feetless legs together with sharp pointy rings (like some Opus Dei fanatic), and I almost feel like I should be shouting for Igor to conduct the electricity or whatever.

Finally after all my hard work, they're all ready to be roasted and et up - yum yum! And I have decided two things: 1) It's too much work being a mad scientist, and 2) Just cremate me. There's no way I want to be stretched on a slab cold, dead and scrubbed while some mortician rubs powders on my scrawny naked body NO SIREE!

So there you have it. Take one part frozen chicken, one part long hours in a walk-in fridge, and one part Susan's crazy imagination and you get a mad Deli scientist preparing monster chickens to take over the world. Or something!