And if you need an answer to that question then obviously you didn’t attend the annual Chicken BBQ on Saturday September 13. Sure the 13th was unlucky and for a few chickens, even Fog Horn Leg Horn was shaking in his boots and for Chicken Little the sky did fall but it was lucky for those who plopped down 8 bucks for some good ole’ fashion eatin’. It started off with a bunch of free range birds being prepared by a few deranged volunteers who have nothing else better to do then wake up early and start cooking for the masses and thank our lucky stars (Alnilam and Mintaka which make up part of Orion’s Belt) that they did. The sun was out, the rain was no where in site, the tent was raised, the massive barbeque pit was stoked, and as soon as the coals were hot, it was a sight that would make Frank Perdue smile and Herbert Hoover wishing he would have used the word grill instead of pot because there was enough chickens to feed all of George’s men who sat in snow up to their kesiters waiting for the ancestors of Huge Grant and John Cleese. Well the red-coats might have been a no-show in the winter of 77 and 78 but the men in red suspenders took their call of duty in the summer of oh eight (yes, it was still summer even though labor day had come and gone) and armed with nothing more than a set tongs, they tackled the grill of flames with honor all while rotating potatoes in tin foil and deliciously prepared egg graduators for the better part of the morning.
As the aromas traveled throughout the valley and up the mountain, the local KFC took a sharp decline in the Saturday sales figures and had them wondering if the ad campaign “Pork the other white meat” had truly taken effect on the general populace. As this was not the case, hordes of the hungry arrived at the firehouse salivating from the smells. They forked over their measly pittance for a feast fit for a fire chief. For 8 bucks they received a half of whole bird, that’s a half breast, leg, thigh, and wing, all smothered in hickory barbecue sauce, and accompanied by the musical fruit - baked beans, plus coleslaw, the tin foil wrapped baked spuds, a dinner roll, and homemade desserts such as cookies and brownies. And to top it off…you could take out and enjoy the food in the comfort of your Buick or hot tub or you could have dined in amongst the fire trucks. For eight bucks you got all that, why would anyone in their right mind, unless they’re left-handed, slave over a hot stove in order to cook the family dinner? 8 bucks and all that food, next year mark that calendar of yours and no need to save, for 8 bucks, everyone can cross the road to get their chicken.
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