Please enjoy this review of KFC Eastlink.

I was having a low day and drifting into a shame spiral. What, I thought to myself, could I do truly hit rock bottom? How could I get to a place where the only way was up, looking at the stars?

Petrol station KFC.

That’s where life restarts. I ordered a three-piece box. Pepsi, because when you’re in that mindset you don’t deserve Coke. I got Wicked Wings too, just to make sure I got exactly where I needed to go.

All that grease. One plastic-wrapped serviette. I sat at an empty table and ate. I started with the Original Recipe and didn’t even wipe my face before attacking those Wicked Wings. The fries were next. They were too good for my specific needs so I washed them down with a cup of potato and gravy and looked down at what I had achieved.

I am Ozymandius, King of Wings. Look on my carcasses ye mighty and despair.

I sat in silence.

I wiped my beard, walked out to my car, and into a new life.

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