By Joe Walker
"Can crack problems be fixed with asphalt?"
I want you to think for moment and recall the last time you saw a legitimate "crack" head. Whitney Houston does not count.
Let me help: See the photo below this column heading? That’s me. Yes,I’m a "crack" head.
Now don’t come looking for me in hopes of getting a new 42-inch television for five dollars. I’ve never danced or washed automobiles for spare change. And I won’t provide you with pirated digital cable
for a Snickers. I’m not that kind of crack head! I’m not addicted to, or have ever used, any form of rock cocaine. I am hooked on something just as potent.
I have a favorite chicken place I’ve started frequenting. If you have a favorite place too then you understand my addiction. This place’s chicken keeps calling me… It’s calling me right now! My homeboys Markus and Bender introduced me to this chicken. My condition is
partially their fault. I thought I was old enough to withstand peer pressure.
They each told me about the special seasoning this place puts on fried whole wings. Markus and Bender call it "crack chicken." They can’t get enough, telling me, "You have to try it. It’ll change you life."
I was hesitant at first. My momma didn’t raise no junkie. But they were persistent. "C’mon, Joe, you have to try it," they said. "You have to try ‘crack chicken’. You get twenty whole wings for ten
dollars." I thought, "Dang, it’s affordable too. Why not? I’ll try it once. It shouldn’t hurt. I won’t get hooked."
Wrong.
I drove to the fry joint they recommended, ordered a twenty-piece "crack chicken", took it home and was forever changed. I opened its
foil container. Smelled it. The wings were golden. No burnt edges.Each wing frosted with seasoning. I grabbed one, then stared at it momentarily. I slowly inched it toward my mouth, soon I took the first bite. "Mmmm," I said to myself. I grabbed another piece. It was ten-times better than the first. I grabbed another and … I must have blacked out.
Next thing I knew I was gazing at a pile of bones. "Where did all my "crack chicken" go?" I thought fiendishly to myself.
"Somebody must’ve come in and stolen it right from under me!" Then reality hit me. I’m hooked. I ate it all. I’m strong enough to admit I have a "crack" problem. And I’m going to call and get help right now.
Nu Resolution #37: Hi. Can I get a twenty piece "crack chicken"?
