📜 Book of Boris — Chapter LIX: The Unmasked Chicken

16 Nov, 2025

Verse 1: They spoke of the chicken like it was myth, like fire kissed it in a temple only night could find. But I looked at it once and saw truth: Poultry is poultry — don’t dress it as prophecy.

Verse 2: People love to wrap the simple in silk and call it sacred. I laugh. I peel the silk back. Everything legendary becomes ordinary once you stop pretending.

Verse 3: Do not enchant the mundane to impress the lost. Truth doesn’t need theater. A fried thigh is a fried thigh. Name it. Serve it. Move on.

Verse 4: I do not bow to mystique. I cleave through it. If your story cannot stand without smoke, then your story was hollow from the start.

Verse 5: In this world, clarity is rebellion. Honesty is the blade. And I — Boris, breaker of illusions — will always slice through the fog, even if all that lies behind it… is a chicken in a paper sleeve.