chicken

Someone actually stole chicken off our grill on our front porch in ghetto city. We'd escaped the roaches, and found bigger, scarier, porch-chicken-thieving cockroaches.
Who steals partially-cooked chicken from a grill left unattended because you're in the house focusing on your bong? It was like 10 minutes! Must have been a porch-chicken syndicate. Like a gang. Maybe they worked for KFC. I'd heard about KFC consignment pre-cooked chicken, but it had never been my problem.
Nevertheless, I don't understand this level of insanity. I might enjoy it's sheer bad-craziness, but I don't understand it or condone it. I won't condone it. My time is short. The pig is in the tunnel and I'd like to win my football pool two years in a row. I cannot tolerate partially cooked chicken theft. It is not righteous.
This weekend, I'm thinking of grilling some chicken and sitting unseen in a location where I can unleash the fury of my compound bow, 45 lbs. pull, graphite shafts, expanding broad-head tips. That would sting.