Rotten Chicken

A classic entry for the Annals of Idiotic Behavior, or What Can Happen When Tokyo Gets Really Hot and Eda Gets Fundamentally Stupid:

On Tuesday, I bought some chicken. On Thursday morning, I was rooting around in the fridge looking for it, but it was nowhere to be found. And then it dawned on me. Had I left it in my gym backpack? The one that sits in the sunny storage room that heats up to about 5000 degrees on summer days?

Alas. I had.

The chicken did not pass Go nor collect $200. Instead I tossed it directly into jail, and then retched for a few minutes. The backpack received great lashings of Febreeze and spent two days hanging in the sunshine.

I still can’t get the smell out of my nose.

As I hang my head in shame, I am seriously considering becoming a vegetarian. Anyone care to join me for some tofu and bean sprouts?

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8 thoughts on “Rotten Chicken”

  1. Hahahahahahaha! I once left a pork roast in a car for six days. It had fallen out of the shopping bag and I thought I had left it at the supermarket. YUCK!

    1. True. Even convenience stores sell it here. There used to be a guy with a cart and a horn who wandered around the neighborhood peddling it. Alas, another thing of the past.

    1. Yep. I’m still smelling it but I think at this point it’s a sense memory. I took the backpack to the gym today and nobody else started retching, so I guess it’s just me.

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