A guy is driving his date to a romantic mystery dinner.
She, in a knicker-twisting agony of romantic curiosity and atrocious over-acting: “Oh come on … where are we going?”
Turns out she gets a cardboard box of mangy chicken and cholesterol sides at the local Kentucky Fried Chicken franchise.
Hey guy, if she is tasteless enough and dumb enough not to empty that crap into your pants and get a cab home then you deserve each other. Have nice fat, greasy chickens together.