It started innocently enough. A few friends gathered 'round a plate of overcooked chicken. "Just one more minute," they said. "It'll be perfect." But perfect was not what they got. What they got was a plate of shoe leather.
We laughed it off as a one-time mistake, but the chickens kept coming back. And so did the burns. We tried to rebrand, to reseason, to re... re... well, to reeverything, really. But the chickens just wouldn't stay cooked.
So we did what any self-respecting group of undercooking enthusiasts would do: we started telling jokes.
1. Why was the chicken so undercooked? Because it was in a hurry!
2. Why did the chicken go to the doctor? Because it had fowl breath!
3. Why did the undercooked chicken join a band? Because it was a drumstick!