It's devilfood, spread like a plague across the western lands by that veal-mongering whoredemon sweetmarlene. I didn't order it. I ordered chicken. For an age, I've fought an impossible war with time and money and forks so that an unforgivable wrong might one day be righted. Tears of joy and relief swell in my eyes when I ponder the thought that my struggle may soon be over and that I can return to my wife and children and proudly proclaim that I got the right order.
