I was raised a proper Catholic boy. Church. Bible school. Prayers before bed. Priests kept their hands to themselves. It was all good.
But I had a secret. After church on Sunday we would go out for lunch. And SHE would be there. Waiting. Becoming. Taunting me with the promise of materialistic anal pleasure.
Drop in a quarter and your ears would be greeted with the most glorious recorded clucking you'd ever dream of hearing. Then she would start her spin. Oh yeah. Slowly, round and round her mechanized ass would go, impaled on that metal rod. Then the squawk. And the prize... a plastic egg filled with booty from the booty beyond my wildest dreams.
I am speaking of Fun Chicken! She was my love. She was my all. I would spend many quarters just to listen to the glory of her voice, savor the sway of her ass. Even when my teen sister insisted that my time spent with Fun Chicken! would have to be after she'd left the restaurant (she was embarrassed by the in-heat timber of the mechanized chicken squawking, fleeing to the door as I was dropping each quarter in) my plastic egg trinket-filled lust still continued unabated.
Soon I had acquired many, many eggs. I kept them under my bed. Giggling with lusty glee and savoring each one. Smelling deep the aroma of HER.
Praying at bedtime. My mother tucking me in and closing the door. Baby Jesus instantly forgotten, out would come the erotic eggs of HER loins, and I would secretly pray to the Fun Chicken! instead.
She was my American False Idol. My first, actually. Sneaking out, Playboy Magazine, drinking, auto-erotic asphyxiation, abusing the elderly, caffeine and trans-fats would come later. But for now, there was just Fun Chicken! Jesus had been happily forsaken. She was all there was.
Eventually I became a responsible adult making the solid and stable living of free-lance theatre artist. Life is now a balance of moderation for me. A drink and cigar every now and then. Meth only on the third weekend of every month. And my Godless childhood with Fun Chicken! now a dim memory.
Yesterday, I was taking my pal OgeeJody to her most favorite restaurant in the universe, Chicken Express, when low and behold- I saw HER. It had been years. I put a quarter in, watched her mighty chicken ass cluck and spin, and got a little hard.
Ogee took pictures.
Fun Chicken! Daddy's back now. And I ain't goin' nowhere ever again!