Quick warning before I get started; this story can easily make you go insane. Reading this story is much like looking at an incomprehensible, Lovecraftian god. If you value your sanity, I highly suggest you click off immediately. Now, on with the story.

We all know and probably love KFC. It's a beloved fried chicken restaurant all around the world. On the outside it just seems like a regular restaurant chain. However, that's just what they want you to think. KFC is directly responsible for my life being ruined. Let's go back all the way to the beginning.

My life's downfall began when I was just a teenager looking for a job. At the time, I was a big fan of KFC and luckily for me, a KFC near me was hiring. I decided to apply, hoping employees get a discount on the food. The next day, I went to the KFC and walked up to the service area. The cashier had greasy black hair and his face was covered in zits leaking pus.

"Hey, I'm here for a job interview." I said to the cashier. "Where am I supposed to go?"

"I'll bring you to the manager." He said in a cracking voice.

I followed him through the kitchen until we got to a door with the word "Manager" on it. The cashier opened the door and lead me inside.

"Uh, sir? This guy said he's here for a job interview." The cashier croaked.

"Ah, you must Jackson." The manager said. He was tall and muscular, his face was almost rectangular and I could barely make out some scars on his face. Something about him made me uneasy. He offered his hand, which I took and gave a weak shake.

"Th-that's me, s-s-sir." I squeaked out.

His hand felt twice as large as mine. The force exerted by his grip felt strong enough to crush a rock.

After a long, painful handshake, I took a seat and the manager ushered the cashier out of the room.

"Jack, here at KFC, we're a family. How's your work ethic?" The manager asked.

"Good." I mumbled. The manager replied with a satisfied grunt.

"Have you ever worked at a restaurant before?" He then asked.

"No, this is my first job." I responded.

"You any good at math?" He asked.

I shrugged and said "Kind of."

After a few more questions he hired me as a cashier and that my first day is tomorrow. Once I stood up to leave, I noticed a small painting on the wall. It was of Colonel Sanders, but it looked like one of Michelangelo's paintings. Something about the brush strokes and the details made it look holy. It weirded me out but I was able to just brush it off.

On my first day, I noticed some oddities. First, there was a closet with a chicken costume in it. It looked like your average mascot costume. However, I've never seen a KFC with a chicken mascot. I assumed it might've been something unique to this location, but I never saw anyone wearing it. Furthermore, I would see the costume's yellow feathers scattered across the ground anytime I got there in the morning. Second, we had a roped off statue of Colonel Sanders in the center of the restaurant. Despite it being roped off and there being signs telling customers not to touch it, an employee had to clean it every day.

For the first month I was working there, I was never given a night shift. However, about halfway through my second month, I looked at my weekly schedule and saw a night shift. I groaned and considered calling in sick that day. But, I grew a pair and decided to go.

I pulled up to the KFC in the dead of night. It looked abandoned, there were no cars in the parking lot and all of the lights inside the restaurant were off. I unlock the front door and walk in. I saw the manager, Mr. Dixie, (We like to call him Big D) standing ominously.

"Uhh." I sputtered out.

My fellow employees stepped out of the darkness.

"You know, we're a family here at KFC." Big D said.

"We think you're finally worthy to join the family, Jack." He continued.

For a minute, I thought I was being pranked and I let out an awkward laugh. Everyone gave me a dirty look and Big D stepped closer.

"I assure you, nothing is funny about our family." Big D said, blasting his hot breath into my face.

"If you don't wish to reach enlightenment, you can live in a world of ignorance." Big D said angrily.

Big D got even closer to my face.

"It's your choice, stay here and be welcomed into heaven, or leave and be condemned to ignorance and hell." Big D said.

I was scared and just said yes without thinking. Big D's mood immediately changed and he said happily to my fellow employees; "LET THE RITUAL BEGIN!"

Big D walked to the kitchen and the other employees guided me to the Colonel Sanders statue. They removed the ropes blocking the statue and began rubbing their hand all over the statue. They kept chanting "Show us the way to the gods, Colonel" over and over again. Eventually, Big D came back into the room wearing the chicken costume. He was holding a green garden hose connected to a large plastic jug. He turned on the hose, spraying gravy on all of us.

The employees were jumping in front of the hose and pushing others out of the way. After they danced in the gravy rain for what felt like years, one of them shouted "WHO SHALL BE THE SACRIFICE TO THE CHICKEN GODS?"

Some scrawny kid I don't know the name of shouted "Me, me, me!" They all grabbed him and threw him in front of Big D. Big D then proceeded to beat the guy to death, creating a mess of gravy and blood.

I was horrified and vomited into the pool of gravy. I was disgusted that this was the truth behind my favorite childhood restaurant. I ran towards the front door with the employees trying to stop me. I was able to avoid them and bolted down the street to the police station.

I burst through the doors of the police station, covered in vomit and gravy.

"HELP! HELP! I T-THERE'S A CULT AT THE KFC AND THEY JUST KILLED SOMEONE!" I shouted.

The two officers in the room began to laugh. But it wasn't a mocking laugh like they thought I was crazy, it was an evil laugh dripping with malice. Once they finished cackling, one of the officers stared at me and ripped the badge off his chest revealing a Colonel Sanders patch!

"NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!" I screamed in horror.

They both reached for their guns on me but I was able to get the hell out of there before they could shoot me. I made a mad dash back to the KFC, got into my car and floored it out of town.

Ever since then, I've been jumping from town to town. Anytime I move to a new town, I make sure there isn't a KFC in it. KFC has been stalking me around the country. KFC vans have parked in front of my house, agents pretending to be civilians have tries to kidnap me, and cameras have been set up around my yards. KFC doesn't know my current location, they can easily track me through this post, but I don't care. The world has to know what KFC really is.