Tender Juicy Chicken, by Dickfart
Colonel Sanders lost his business, because his commercials sucked , his chicken was too expensive, and Popeyes chicken is way better, so he was unemployed for awhile. Then he saw an ad in the newspaper. A night shift security position opened up at Freddy Fazbear's Pizzaria. The place had been shut down since the 90's, but it opened back up after one too many minimum wage workers either rage quit the corporate shithole that was Chuck E Cheese, or died wearing the Chucky costume outdoors in the middle of July. Corporate tried to cover it up by hiding the bodies in the ball pit, but that just snowballed into another problem: having enough balls to hide all the bodies. It was rumored that children and homeless people were kidnapped, murdered, and melted down to make new balls for their ball pits, because China was charging them two cents per ball now, and that was two cents too many.
Anyway, on Colonel Sanders' first night at the pizzaria, he received a phone call.
"Hello. You have been carefully selected for an opportunity to enter our weekly prize drawing. If you win you'll get a free trip to the Bahamas..."
"Hogwash!" said Colonel Sanders, switching off the phone. He checked the cameras and all of the animatronics were still on stage in their proper positions. The Colonel cracked open a beer and fired up a cigarette. His boss was young enough to be his grandson, and Colonel Sanders would be damned if he let some punk ass whipper snapper tell him what to do.
Since he was too old to walk to the bathroom, Colonel Sanders took a stinky pebble shit in his diaper. It was the first shit he'd taken in five weeks, and like every shit he took it smelled like his original recipe, a permanent fixture in his bowels. He placed the diaper in a grocery bag, tied it up, and handed it to Bonnie the Bunny, standing outside his door.
"Take this and throw it in the trash, won't you, sonny?" said Colonel Sanders.
Bonnie responded with an ear piercing scream.
"I said NOW!" said the colonel, slamming his cane on the door button before Bonnie could disable it. "Kids these days. No respect for their elders."
An hour later, Chica was at his door, and the colonel appraised her naked body with his expertise.
"You look like a tender and juicy piece of ass," said the colonel, and he undressed and was wrinkly and naked. Chica's circuitry was not configured to deal with this fuckery, so she did what she knew and grabbed the colonel. He responded by pressing his eight hundred year old cock-a-doodle-doo against her cold, metal exterior.
"Now, now, my dear. I've been around the block a few times. I know my way around a warm thigh and a tender, succulent breast. It was my life's work, after all." He circled his finger around her metallic breast plate, conveniently equipped with nipple hardening technology. The new manager figured that'd attract a teenage boy crowd. "Maybe if you're lucky we can make my award winning gravy together."
"Pizza," said Chica, and Colonel Sanders offered her a beer. She offered him a pizza. Together they had beer and pizza naked together, and the colonel had her on her hands and knees and plunged his retired rod into her filthy exhaust hole, making her cluck and sputter with every thrust.
At 5am the lights went out. He forgot to open up the danged door, so Freddy wasted no time in crashing in on the party.
"Joke's on you," said Colonel Sanders, just as Freddy was going to jump him. "I'm already dead."
"Rrrhwha?" said Freddy. Then Colonel Sanders started to sizzle.
"Before my spirit could truly be set free, I had to make gravy with one last chicken," he said, as Chica laid there with a blanket over her and a cigarette in her mouth. "But now I must go."
And just like that, his entire body shriveled into extra crispy bread crumbs, fell over, and shattered into many extra salty, greasy, chrunchy pieces for the mice and rodents to pick out of the carpet for all eternity, or at least until the current owner gives up and burns the place down.
The End