inarticulate sparkle.

Not sure about anyone else, but when I heard about this recipe, I was so fucking excited. I love chicken, creamy sauce, mushrooms…. let’s be real, I love food in general.

When I finally got to try it, I was at work. For those who don’t actually know me, I used to be a police officer. I was dating a man whose favorite pastime was wasting MY time, and cooking. He knew his way around a ribeye, I’ll give him that, but the man figured out how to burn pancakes that were raw in the middle.

Anyway, one fine morning that ex boyfriend shot me a text that said he made me some Marry Me chicken., and he would meet me while I was on patrol so I could grab it. We met under the awning at the RaceTrac, exchanged a brief kiss (had to be professional, I had a rookie in the car) and we went our separate ways. All I could think about was that goddamn chicken.

Little fact about me: I am always hungry. I will never turn down a meal.

I was riding around with my rookie, jumping from call to call, just trying to make it to lunch time. My patrol zone was on the west side of the city, by the interstate and the dreaded Walmart. At some point in the late morning rookie and I actually ended up in Walmart, because I was feeling *snacky*. If you had to guess what I bought, would you have guessed a 400 piece bag of tootsie rolls? Because that’s what I bought. Can’t be stingy on the snacks.

Lunch time came around and I took my rookie back to the station so I could eat my bomb ass chicken. It really was delicious, 1 point to the boyfriend!

Later in the day, rookie and I were sent to a call that needed a female officer for a search, and on the way, we attached ourselves to a priority call. The funny thing about police work is that you can go from arguing with your rookie about snacks to having the worst day of your life in about thirty seconds. The priority call ended up with my rookie and I shooting a mentally ill woman who charged me with a knife.

Annnddd that’s the story about how I will never again eat Marry Me Chicken and tootsie rolls.

The traumatised brain is funny like that.

✨ Spark Note:

The heart says homemade focaccia. The soul says drive-thru.