I don’t like Mr. Wheeler. I can see what he’s thinking and it scares me. I don’t like this job either. ‘Are you sure it’s legal?’ I asked.
‘It’s only water, love.’ He grabbed the syringe. ‘Look.’
I don’t like him saying ‘love’ and staring at my boobs. Not that there’s anything there.
‘Wouldn’t be able to sell ’em if they looked like you. Too skinny, love.’
He waved the syringe at me. I folded my arms and backed away.
He plunged the syringe into the chicken and watched it swell. His eyes gleamed. ‘There. Nice and plump now, love.’
This is in response to Matt’s Flash Fiction Foray prompt, the song Skinny Love. The technique of enhancing or ‘plumping’ chickens by injecting salty water into them before packing is widespread. I don’t know if they do that at Père Dodu, but I liked the name, Daddy Plump, as a title. What I can say is that Père Dodu’s Crousti Nuggets contain 42% chicken. Hmm… I wonder what the rest is.