Fly Beer Chicken, Fly!

If you were driving on I-440 between West End and I-40 at approximately 5:30 and you looked to the west and thought you saw a half-burnt/half-raw chicken with a beer can in its butt flying through the air, you did.

Nashville, I know I asked you to show me something weird and free, but I had no idea it would be this: the Butcher pulling back the tinfoil surrounding his beer chicken, cussing profusely, and then flinging the chicken high into the air, over the fence, and into the woods that line the interstate.


3 thoughts on “Fly Beer Chicken, Fly!

  1. I don’t know if it would be uncool to quote Homer Simpson here, but,

    “It’s just a little airborne, it’s still good, it’s still good!”


  2. Pingback: The Whites Creek Post Office « Tiny Cat Pants

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