A trucker pulls into a service station on the motorway. He's been driving all night and hasn't eaten since the night before. He needs some food, and so he heads for the fast-food bar and orders some fried chicken and chips. While he waits he glances around the place: it's not exactly sparkly clean--but then again he's been in some bad places in his travels. He takes his food and heads for a table.
He's about to bite into his chicken when something makes him stop. He pokes it with his fork, inspecting the meat. For a moment all he knows is that it looks kind of weird . . . and then he flips it over and he sees the shape of it. He hurls it away from himself, almost vomiting.
The deep fried thing is not chicken at all. It's a rat, curled into a ball and slathered with batter. The poor thing must have fallen into the fryer, cooking itself whole in the remnants of a hundred meals-worth of grease.
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