Bad Chicken

I ran into some bad chicken tonight. Here's how it all went down:

Over the last few months, I've been steadily improving my culinary skills, sharpening them more and more with each dulling-chop of my Ikea Kitchen Knife.

Last Monday or Tuesday (can't remember which), I purchased some chicken, thinking I would recreate my fabled chicken and chickpea curry piano jazz supreme (that's what it will be called when I write my cookbook). I was so confident in what I believed was sure to become my signature dish that I splurged and bought 450g of pre-chopped, wok-ready chicken, at a cost of 69 NOK (~12 CDN). The one ingredient that I failed to purchase at the time was red pepper. Being unwilling to proceed with my masterpiece until I was able to procure (I don't think I've ever used that word before) all the ingredients, I was forced to leave my chicken in the fridge until today, when I was able to make a trip to the Rema 100 to procure (yes! two times!) my much-needed pepper. Upon arriving back home, and after speaking with Lindsay on the phone, I set about my task. I fried the peppers. I added the Uncle Ben's Thai Sauce. I opened the can of Chickpeas. I added the Chickpeas. I simmered. While this was happening, I retrieved the chicken from the fridge. Upon inspection, I noticed that it looked a little off - certain part appeared hard and dark - but I took comfort by noting that the expiry-date was still one full day away. 

I opened the package. It smelled a little funny, but uncooked chicken never smells good. So far, so good. I put it in the oil and began to fry. Within seconds, the kitchen had filled with the most nauseating smell. Heather, my English hall-mate, jumped up from the couch and looked at me. I looked back at her. She looked at the chicken. I looked at the chicken. It was bad chicken. 

Despite having washed everything that could have come in contact with this bad chicken, I'm quite certain that I'm going to have to spend christmas in an Oslo Hospital, while I recover from severe food poisoning. 

The hallway still smells like rotting chicken. Thankfully, my bedroom door was closed and the spilled coffee grounds that cover a large portion of my floor and desk appear to be succesful in fending off the encroaching stench.