chicken wings

given half a chance
and with the proper
amount of hunger
you believe that you
could eat at least
twenty to thirty
fried chicken wings
in one hour.
this makes betty
laugh and throw
her head back,
loosening her new
wig.  let's make
a bet, she says.
a hundred dollars
says you can't do it.
you're not chicken
are you. which makes
her laugh even more.
not funny you say.
game on. so together
you fry up fifty wings
with a moderate amount
of seasoning.
she wants to eat
some too while she
watches you go at it.
the first twenty go
down easily, but then
you swallow a bone
on the twenty first wing
because you are on
the clock and eating so
fast.  it gets lodged
in your throat.
loser, betty says. loser. no
way you can keep eating
with that bone in
your throat. you realize
that she's right
and motion her
to come around to
do the heimlich manuever.
you can't  breath
and feel yourself blacking
out. the room is spinning
as your greasy hands
grasp at the tablecloth.
she shakes her head,
and says pffff. i knew
you couldn't do it.
she puts her gin and tonic
down and then comes
around and squeezes hard
below your rib cage
making the chicken wing
bone pop out of your
gaping mouth
and fly across the room.
the dog who is on his hind
legs begging, catches it
in midair and runs out
of the room.
you owe me a hundred
dollars, she says,
now pay up.