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MidReal Story
The Country Boy's First Taste of KFC
Scenario:black guy discover kfc
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James Carter
adventurous, and humorous. James discovers KFC for the first time and enjoys it immensely. He shares his experience with his friends, who tease him about being a "country boy." Despite this, he appreciates the taste and convenience of KFC.
Darius Thompson
witty, and encouraging. Darius jokes about James' lack of exposure to KFC but welcomes him to the "KFC club." He shares in the group's humor and camaraderie as they enjoy their meal together.
Marcus Johnson
playful, and enthusiastic. Marcus encourages James to try KFC and laughs at his initial hesitation. He teases James about being a "country boy" but ultimately shares in his friend's excitement over the discovery of fried chicken.
The black man has never had KFC.
Yes, you heard that right.
I, the black man, have never had KFC.
It was a Tuesday afternoon and three of my friends were over at my boy Marcus' house.
There was me, Marcus, and Darius.
Marcus walks into the kitchen and says, "Y'all want some food?"
We all yell in unison, "Hell yeah!"
Marcus comes out with a bucket of chicken.
Not just any chicken but KFC (Kentucky Fried Chicken).
I look at the bucket and ask, "What's that?"
Darius and Marcus give each other a 'you got to be kidding me' look.
Marcus says, "That's KFC."
I say, "What's KFC?"
Darius laughs and says, "Man, where you been?"
I tell him, "Earth."
Marcus holds out the bucket and I stare at the golden-brown pieces.
The smell hits me - a mix of herbs and spices I've never encountered before.
Darius and Marcus watch me intently as I reach in, selecting a drumstick that feels warm through my fingers.
The crispy coating crackles slightly as I lift it.
Marcus leans forward, phone in hand, ready to record my reaction.
Darius nudges me and says, "Go on, man, it ain't gonna bite you back."
I examine the piece from all angles, turning it slowly while my friends shake their heads in disbelief.
Marcus chuckles and says, "You actin' like it's some kinda alien artifact or somethin'."
I smirk and reply, "Well, maybe it is to me."
Darius grins and adds, "Just wait till you taste it—your whole world 'bout to change."
I take a tentative bite, and the crunch of the skin gives way to juicy meat.
Marcus keeps filming while Darius leans forward, eager for my reaction.
The blend of eleven herbs and spices hits my taste buds, and I nod appreciatively, reaching for another bite.
Marcus and Darius exchange knowing glances, clearly pleased with my response.
Just as I'm about to comment on the unique flavor, I notice the overhead light dimming slightly.
The ceiling fan slows down, and a low humming sound starts building from the kitchen area.
I pause mid-bite, the drumstick still in my trembling hand.
Marcus lowers his phone, and Darius shifts uncomfortably in his chair.
The fluorescent light in the kitchen flickers erratically, casting weird shadows across the linoleum floor.
My heart pounds as I glance up, noticing the microwave's digital display blinking random numbers.
The temperature in the room drops noticeably, causing the hair on my arms to stand up.
A metallic taste fills my mouth, overpowering the lingering flavor of the chicken.
Just then, the kitchen door creaks open by itself, and I drop the drumstick onto my plate with a clatter.
Marcus whispers, "Did y'all see that, or am I trippin'?"
Darius gulps and replies, "Nah, man, I saw it too—something ain't right here."
I nod slowly, eyes fixed on the door, and say, "Feels like we're not alone anymore."
Through the doorway, a figure emerges, clad in a white suit.
The goatee and glasses are unmistakable against his pale complexion.
I grip the edge of the table, my knuckles turning white.
The ghostly form of Colonel Sanders himself steps into the room, making the air thick and heavy.
Marcus drops his phone, the recording forgotten.
Darius backs away from the table, eyes wide with fear.
The Colonel's transparent form glides closer, his eyes fixed on the KFC bucket between us.
When he reaches out with a translucent hand, I notice the gold-headed cane gripped tightly in his other grip.
The room falls silent as his spectral voice echoes, "I see you've found my secret recipe."
The Colonel's ghost hovers near our table, his translucent form casting no shadow on the floor.
He reaches into his ethereal suit jacket and pulls out a large watermelon, somehow solid despite his spectral state.
My mouth drops open as the fruit thumps heavily onto the table next to the KFC bucket.
Marcus and Darius exchange bewildered glances while I grip the edge of my chair.
"Now boys," the Colonel drawls, his ghostly voice echoing in the kitchen, "I know what you're thinking, but I'm not racist."
He adjusts his string tie with transparent fingers, the watermelon sitting between us like a strange centerpiece.
The room remains silent, the weight of his words hanging heavily in the air.
I stare at the watermelon, the Colonel's ghostly form hovering above our table.
His transparent body casts no shadow on the floor, and his cane seems to pass through the solid table.
Marcus reaches for his fallen phone, but the Colonel's cane swings through the air, stopping just inches from Marcus' outstretched hand.
Darius attempts to speak, but only a choked sound escapes his lips.
The Colonel's face twists in frustration as he realizes we're not acknowledging his "gift."
Her spectral silhouette begins to fade, whispering "bunch of knaves" between her lips before disappearing through the ceiling.
The watermelon and our cold KFC remain as the only signs of his presence.
Marcus grabs his phone, his hands shaking.
"Let's get out of here," I say, breaking the silence.