Completely immobilized within your string-and-cellophane prison, you sit in a crate on the shipping dock, waiting to be placed on a truck. After a few minutes, you feel the impact of several other chickens, similarly packaged as yourself, dumped in on top of you.
There's my cover, you think. What restaurant takes delivery of only one chicken at a time, after all?
The package that lies directly on top of you is upside, and you can feel the cold, dead flesh of the bird pressing against you through the two thin layers of plastic. You consider that right now you are essentially identical to it.
I'm just dead meat, you think morosely, considering your state. And I'll stay this way until I can get back into that tube again.
You imagine that you'd be feeling a little sick to the stomach right now...if you still had one, that is.
The top of the crate goes on, plunging you into darkness.
Time passes. You imagine the world going about its business around you while you sit and wait.
Then, after an eternity, you feel the crate lifted. You anticipate the lurch of being loaded into the back of a truck, but it never comes. After a few minutes of motion, the crate is set down.
Light floods into your world again as the lid is pulled off and hands begin plucking your fellow chickens from the crate. Finally, you are grasped by the hands and pulled into the light.
"Whoa, that's a big one!" a voice says, laughing.
That voice is familiar! you think as you are suddenly surrounded by the sounds of a kitchen. The cellophane wrapping is ripped open and your vision clears.
A face is staring down at you. "Must be nearly five pounds!" she says.
You do recognize her! She's a cafeteria worker....
...at the Department for Food Safety!
There's been a mix-up! You've been sent to your own cafeteria! And no one knows you're here!
You are flopped down on the counter and a finger probes you. You want to flail about, but you're still trussed and chilled. You can't move!
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