CHICAGO -- The relationship between Jim Edmonds and his wife's cooking, already strained to begin with, seems to have taken a turn for the worse.
When asked late Saturday evening about heating up some leftover chicken for dinner, Edmonds replied, "I'm fucking done with this chicken, and I'm fucking done with reheating dinner."
It wasn't the first time Edmonds had cut his ties with a former love.
Edmonds' pronouncement came as the culmination of two days worth of bad blood between he and the chicken in question. Originally seen as a solid Thursday night dinner, both parties had been amicable early in the process, with Edmonds himself complimenting the chicken on its moisture content and tangy, salty flavor, according to sources familiar with the relationship. Edmonds was even appreciative of the side dish, a rice pilaf, despite his long standing objection to most rice dishes.
"He and the chicken both saw that this was for the best," said one dinnertime official, speaking on condition of anonymity. "Jimmy was hungry, and the chicken had been laid out the day before and needed to be used up."
"It was what was best for the both of them."
However, the two sides quickly began to sour on each other, with Edmonds firing the first salvo, complaining of heartburn after he had gone to bed. The chicken was heard to respond by causing more stomach acid to bubble up, straining an already tense situation further.
By Friday morning, Edmonds had become disillusioned with the chicken, though at first he attempted to be diplomatic. When his wife questioned him about rehashing the now infamous meal, though, Edmonds was unable to maintain his equanimity.
"Look, I don't want to eat that chicken anymore, alright? I thought it was just fine at the time, and then it does something like that, making my stomach hurt? I'm fucking done with that leftover chicken."
The proclamation came at the end of a tense week for the Edmonds household, in which Jim had made no secret of his growing unhappiness with several other situations. At various times throughout the week, Edmonds had let it be known that he was fucking done with the lawnmower not starting on the first pull, the garbage disposal in the kitchen which had recently begun backing up, and the vanilla and sandalwood candles his wife had left burning on the living room mantle.
While it is unknown just what began this rash of household vitriol, it appears that the tensions will most likely continue, at least until a handyman is called to fix the drain and some different candles are purchased.
As of press time, Edmonds was heard speaking on the phone to a representative of the Sprint company, telling them he was fucking done with the high cost of dependable long distance service.