Monday, March 07, 2011

And Then My Entire Family Was Nearly Killed By a Possessed Chicken Bone

I let my family cook for me. I am very generous that way. Also, we all know how often I cook. Have you seen my cooking blog?

So I come home from my parents' house every week with various freezer containers full of the usuals - Mom's chicken noodle soup, Mom's potato soup, Mom's spaghetti. Occasionally I will get things from other family members too such as Dad's pea soup, Dad's chili, Dad's stew that I thought was spaghetti sauce because it wasn't labeled that turned out to be a wonderful surprise.  Then I also get my brother's take on things that typically includes chicken soup with too much dill. Although the last one he sent had a note taped to it that said "Less dill. More love." Awww. He's single, ladies.

The other day I went searching for something to eat when B disappointingly ignored my SOS text about dinner and ATE WITHOUT ME.  I grabbed a contained marked "Soup for Lonnie" and remembered my Mom sent me chicken soup she had made up for someone else that never got to pick it up. Then I defrosted it, warmed it and ate it.

Then I almost died.

Contained in the soup was a chicken bone. A large one actually, which is how I found it in my mouth.*  I removed it, threw it in the trash, and sent my Mom an email entitled "Were you trying to kill Lonnie?"  She responded by asking me if I was okay, going on to ask if the bone gave it extra flavor, and then blaming my brother. He's still single, ladies.

Fast forward two days later and as I am walking through the kitchen I notice something in Jersey's mouth, I make her give it to me and it is THAT DAMN CHICKEN BONE! What the heck? I KNOW I threw that thing out.  Another email to my mother insisting she was trying to kill my entire family resulted in this response:

Good grief! Is that chicken bone possessed? Put it in a plastic bag and bring it to my house so I can get rid of that devil!

I am not sure what good putting it in a plastic bag would have done. It just gives me visions of Jersey with a plastic bag with a chicken bone in it hanging out of her mouth. I am also not sure what a proper disposal is.  Kind of scared to ask, actually.

I decided not to pass on the possessed chicken bone to another house for the fear that everyone would soon find it in their mouths, or their dog's mouth, or their fish's mouth. Definitely not their chicken's mouths though, people. They are not cannibals!

Only one possession per family, please.

On a side note, after I sent my Mom this blog post about a staple in Jorge's dog's stomach, my Mom sent the me the following email:

See, you could have blogged and showed the chicken bone in Jersey's tummy and made her a star. But, take it away from her and call ME an attempted murderess.
My family has its priorities you know.

*My Mom is a good cook and she never ever has bones in her soup. This was a freak accident.**

**Ditto my brother. Feel free to snap him up, ladies.

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