Chicken Run

It's not that I'm funny, but that I'm more willing to do ridiculous things. Witness yesterday at work, which resulted in me making another Popeye's fried chicken run. I've become the "chicken guy," though that name is just a placeholder until we come up with another name. Thus, that means that I will be known as the "chicken guy" for a while. I left an away message up which stated that I was on a chicken run for the office. M.C. saw it and accused me of slowly killing off the office. I do not deny this, but at least it wasn't done out of spite. (And the road to hell is paved with good intentions).

Somehow this lead to me remarking that I was widely perceived at work as being rather off kilter. Somehow, that lead to her telling me to go around the office whistling "Killing Me Softly," originally by Roberta Flack, redone by the Fugees. After all, I am killing everyone with chicken and grease. I told her I'd think about it.

And think about it I did on the long, slow drive home. Coming up with alternate lyrics, practicing in my car, making preparations. Like I said, I'm not funny, just more willing to do ridiculous things.

My biggest issue with the entire venture was that I wasn't prepared to walk around the office floor singing, and I didn’t really want to make myself the focus when everyone was on the floor. The great thing about coming into work before most everyone else is that you can get work done without being interrupted, and you can do things when only a few people are there. Case in point, when D.R. got to work, I decided that was the time.

Around 0910, I saunter over to her office, note that the new secretary (whose name I still do not know) is there, and decide to run and gun with it.

[K.T. knocks]
D.R.: Morning.
K.T.: Hey, so, you know how [M.C.] has a high threshold for entertainment slash low threshold for boredom?
D.R.: Yeah.
K.T.: Well. OK.
[K.T. breathes deep]
[K.T. sings to the tune of "Killing Me Softly"]
K.T.: Strumming my pain with its feather
[D.R. laughs]
K.T.: Singing my life with its grease
D.R.: I don't have a lighter. This is great.
K.T.: Killing me softly with chicken
[D.R. breaks down laughing]
K.T.: Killing me softly with chicken
[D.R. breaks down laughing]
K.T.: Shortening my whole life with Popeye's
D.R.: My side hurts, this is great.
K.T.: Killing me softly with chicken

Note that I was leaning with my back against the wall, my arms crossed, not really looking directly at D.R. As soon as I finished singing, I immediately left her office, just as G.H. was entering. He just looked up at me, looked at D.R. laughing, and asked me what was going on.

K.T.: I don't know. I think [D.R.]'s laughing.