No joke, that's pretty much exactly what my wedding cake looked like. The "blood" was chocolate. It was awesome.
If the "blood" had been blood it would have been awesomer.
Yet it's the chicken that holds a strange fascination for her.
"One day I'm going to eat you... but not today," she would say each time she opened the fridge and peered upon the chicken. "Perhaps tomorrow I will eat you." And so it went, Princess Bride-like, until the chicken rotted and infested the fridge with botulism.
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