I have a peculiar talent for creating advertising. One that is frequently beyond my control. Take yesterday. My girlfriend and I were driving east on Lisbon when we came across a dilapidated chicken joint named Champion Chicken.
I involuntarily launched into an announcer-like voice and said “There isn’t a chicken in the joint that hasn’t gone fifteen rounds and come out a champ! No matter how hard you hit ‘em, they’re the chicken you can’t keep down!”
A second passed before peals of laughter emanated from the passenger seat. It was then that I realized the awful double entendre.
Madison Avenue fears me.