During our time at the St. Catharines branch of the HOI we had a webcam situated at the top of the stairs looking down on the foyer. Our friends used it to check whose shoes were there and determine who was home at the time. Others waited patiently for hours, hoping for a glimpse of one of the cats moving swiftly through the camera’s view. To reward our viewers for their participation, we began to stage short performance art pieces at a certain time every week. One week, Doug and I ate a bucket of Kentucky Fried Chicken while shirtless and sitting below a giant sign that read “Workfare”.
I have no idea why the following piece was written. Perhaps it was to explain to those who skipped the event exactly what they were missing.
Chicken. Fried chicken.
Men kill for it. Women give up their maidenheads and mothers their children for a mere taste. Vegetarians deny themselves this essential foodstuff, then sneak a bite when backs are turned. Fried chicken. Is there a greater name for Love?
In November, a bucket of KFC came into the posession of Steve and Doug of the House of Irony. These cultured men, simply the best their wasted generation has to offer, even these men succumbed to the delectable power of fried chicken. Within seconds, like the Albertan wheat farmers we all have residing in our own dark hearts, their shirts were torn off their sweaty backs. They scurried along the foyer floor, slurping the thick and juicy tendons off the milky bones of their beloved chicken. They ate among the animals, upon the filth-ridden mats and and moldy shoes, oblivious to all but the overpowering hunger. Like Galactus, devourer of worlds, only different. Two men reduced to savagery. A bestial duo, with only their bare chests to use as serviettes for their gore smothered fingertips. Two obscene creatures, sharing an entire bucket of mouthwatering fried chicken, smacking their cracked lips in mute appreciation.
Weep not for these evolutionary throwbacks, for they walk among you even now. They date your daughters, shovel your walks and give you the last seat on the bus. They’re even closer than you think.
Without reservation, I can honestly say that the workfare broadcast is one of the greatest moments of my lived experience.
You know, I feel exactly the same way. It was everything my life was leading up to, and everything the remainder of my life is compared to.