Chester the Grasshopper

All blog posts about the upcoming wedding are on hold. There are obviously uber disgusting hoppin' things going on around here, and I knew you would all like to get in on the action.

Last Sunday evening, Ashlee informed me that Peter had found a grasshopper in the deli chicken that we wolfed down for lunch that day. Peter was fitting right into the family when he warmed up a piece for himself for dinner. As he neared the end of his snarfing, Jessie looked over to notice he was trying to keep the chicken from coming ... back ... up.

Turns out there was an itty bitty full grown grasshopper nestled comfortably in the bone of the chicken wing.

When Ashlee told me, I thought, Oh sure ... a grasshopper.

I mean, how did they KNOW that it was a grasshopper? Perhaps it was just a little something that resembled a grasshopper. Perhaps they were all being teenagers, aka overdramatic. I mean, a grasshopper?? In the chicken? Like, in it? IN the chicken?

I didn't really want to take a look see. But my curiosity got the best of me. And here's what I found. What do you think? Grasshopper? Or no grasshopper?

(Click to enlarge)

The reason we call him Chester:

There are very few things that will grab my undivided attention at this point in the wedding prep. But that, my Lovely Lurkers, succeeded in grabbing it like a shark grabs its victim from the murky waters. I was captivated ... sick to my stomach ... completely grossed out ... sorry for Peter ... upset with the deli ... but after that ... I couldn't help but laugh. I am at least fortunate enough to not have even touched the batch of chicken, since it was not gluten free (hence the reason I could laugh). But my stomach was turning and heaving for Peter (Poor Peter!!!)   ... and Jessie, who needless to say, did not finish her leftover chicken that evening. For everyone that ate it at lunch, it was just too late. Who knows, maybe they unwittingly ate this grasshopper's babies without even knowing. Now isn't that a comforting thought?

Chester sat in my refrigerator (along with the two other untouched pieces) for a day and a half before I decided to take it in to the Deli to let them know of their mishap, if that's what you want to call it. I admit, I immediately saw dollar signs when I saw the grasshopper. Memories of cut off fingers in Wendy's chili flooded my mind. Granted, that finger was fake. But I knew my grasshopper was real ... once alive, and hopping with joy in the weeds wherever this young chicken called home.

I never really considered throwing enough of a fit to actually come home with the wedding paid for anything substantial. But I at least wanted the Deli to know of their less than accomodating customer service. And I secretly hopped hoped that they would return my money, and perhaps everything on the ticket that day, which only consisted of the sides and a dessert.

Ok! And maybe a few groceries to boot. I admit it.

I walked away with $6.28 for the chicken. And just before I left the manager said, "You know, I think I should give you a ten dollar gift certificate, just because I feel so bad."

How generous of you.

Aloud, I said, "Oh, thank you very much. I appreciate it."

I wonder if this means I'll be making the fried chicken next Sunday.

~Brenda