A/N: Hi, there! This is all completely satirical material. In a fever dream of late-night planning, I decided to write my very own KFC Fanfiction. The people represented in this story are used purely for entertainment reasons. KFC, if you're reading this, please don't sue me. I don't know how long your patent lasts, but I can give you loyalty and the promise to only eat your chicken. Aside from that, I guess it's time to begin the story. Enjoy, it'll be finger lickin' good.
Upon walking into the chicken restaurant, Betty Breast's senses were overwhelmed. The smell of chicken, frying in the back, made her mouth water. This was a weekly tradition, a way to celebrate her son's soccer attempts; yet she couldn't help but feel overjoyed every time. While chicken wasn't much to be excited over, KFC was an entirely different matter. The chicken, always golden and crisp, was heavenly. In both taste, texture, and scent. Every KFC employee was warm and friendly, leading Betty to look forward to her son's soccer games. As a middle aged woman, there wasn't much left in life to excite her. If KFC was going to take that role, then so be it. The lights in the restaurant were bright, but not overwhelmingly so. Betty ushered her son, Oliver, forward. He took a spot in line, whilst she placed her umbrella in the stand by the door. Fumbling with the umbrella, a little shaky from the mouthwatering smell, Betty finally placed the umbrella away. She went to join Oliver in line, apologizing to the customers she skipped. This was a normal day, a normal Friday. Little did she know, the person she would soon meet would change her life. This person was Colonel Sanders. And she was thirty seconds away from meeting him.