2011-02-01, 12:16 AM
I had one once as a child...
I still remember the curd of fat or some kind of hardened chewy gel like object that infested that "nugget". It was a cold nightfall... me and my family drove down a very long stretch of highway for hours on end. I remember because the world around me was blanketed in black snow from the repeat blizzards, snow plows, car fumes, and darkness. I sat in my seat quite as could be but my stomach spoke for me. It growled more loud then my voice ever could and in the darkness I could see my parents concerned faces. We pulled into a truck stop, it was a place I've never seen, like an open field of black tar and street lamps. There was only one place open late that night and there was no custom orders. I was a picky kid and there was only a few sandwiches with to many topping to count, but then I was saved, or rather... I thought I was. Down slid a small parcel of slowly breaded and fried chicken nuggets , I was happy and with my childlike smile I grabbed the box and rushed to my father and then to the register. I opened the box to an erupting mild steam and opened my BBQ packets and sat down with my winter apparel still on. I dipped it deep into the sauce and took a bite, then my chewing slowed... It slowed at first to a nibble, to a crawl, and then to a halt... In my mouth was something horrible, something unexpected, nothing but a curd could be used as a correct description of this object. I spat it out, clear the color, bland the taste, gel the texture, hard the surface. It was on that day I swore I'd never eat another nugget as long as I live.
I still remember the curd of fat or some kind of hardened chewy gel like object that infested that "nugget". It was a cold nightfall... me and my family drove down a very long stretch of highway for hours on end. I remember because the world around me was blanketed in black snow from the repeat blizzards, snow plows, car fumes, and darkness. I sat in my seat quite as could be but my stomach spoke for me. It growled more loud then my voice ever could and in the darkness I could see my parents concerned faces. We pulled into a truck stop, it was a place I've never seen, like an open field of black tar and street lamps. There was only one place open late that night and there was no custom orders. I was a picky kid and there was only a few sandwiches with to many topping to count, but then I was saved, or rather... I thought I was. Down slid a small parcel of slowly breaded and fried chicken nuggets , I was happy and with my childlike smile I grabbed the box and rushed to my father and then to the register. I opened the box to an erupting mild steam and opened my BBQ packets and sat down with my winter apparel still on. I dipped it deep into the sauce and took a bite, then my chewing slowed... It slowed at first to a nibble, to a crawl, and then to a halt... In my mouth was something horrible, something unexpected, nothing but a curd could be used as a correct description of this object. I spat it out, clear the color, bland the taste, gel the texture, hard the surface. It was on that day I swore I'd never eat another nugget as long as I live.