KFC Runner15 May 2013
IronMeister and syntaxmachine
One year ago, Wiggs was living in a soggy, mold-encrusted box and panhandling on a Las Vegas street corner. But he had a deep-seated dream -- fostered since childhood when the drive-through lady mistook him for a girl and put a barbie doll in his happy meal -- to be a fast food professional. That dream, along with the propensity for fierce determination encoded in his Hebrew DNA molecules, kept him chugging and chooming along.
He was in a bind: having purportedly been sober since mid-2011, Wiggs succumbed to drinking again. Arby's retracted its earlier job offer, and Wiggs ended up briefly detained by the Las Vegas Police Department with a transsexual prostitute after a fierce yelling match. The dream seemed nowhere near actualization.
Hoping to take a sabbatical from being unemployed, Wiggs visited the land of milk and honey to convalesce and pay tribute to his ancestors. Little did Wiggs know, Kentucky Fried Chicken is something of a revolutionary symbol in the Middle East: enterprising Palestinians have begun smuggling fried chicken 35 miles from Egypt. And Wiggs has leapt on the opportunity to finally fulfill his dream.
According to anonymous sources, Wiggs has formed a local delivery company with a Facebook page which serves as a front for smuggling KFC into the Gaza Strip by the bucket load. "Now, I'm working day and night to extend to my
true Hebrew brethren some of the freedoms Americans take for granted -- particularly, the freedom to be as morbidly obese as I was at that one bodybuilding expo. Holy sh*t was I fat as f*ck. That's something I don't want these people to miss out on, besides the glorious fried chicken."
A network of hundreds of tunnels connects Gaza to Egypt along their seven-mile border, allowing food, medicine, cars, construction materials, weapons and popcorn chicken to bypass an Israeli blockade.
Despite the blockade, things seem to be working well for Colonel Sanders fans. According to Wiggs, smugglers in need of work will move a meal for roughly $40 to $50 — down from $200 or more only three years ago. With a glint in his eye apparent on his otherwise utterly obsidian face, Wiggs describes plans to expand to watermelon smuggling. "I've got a very skilled smuggler coming over, too. Due to recent career choices of his own, that guy can store watermelons where the sun don't shine like nobody else -- he's perfect for the job!"
