Marmalade’s Spicy Chicken Obsession
Boston, 1988. The big orange cat had many vices — laziness, superiority, and a wandering heart — but none compared to his unholy love of spicy chicken.
It started innocently enough.
One rainy night, Marmalade had slipped out the office window for his usual prowl. He landed in the alley behind the Chinese laundry and discovered heaven in a dented metal dumpster: leftover General Tso’s chicken that had been tossed out after the dinner rush. The sauce was thick, sticky, and loaded with chili flakes. The heat hit his tongue like a velvet hammer.
From that moment on, Marmalade was hooked.
He became a creature of ritual.
Every evening, around 9:30 p.m., the big orange lummox would saunter out of the office, tail high, and make the three-block pilgrimage to the alley behind Won Ton Palace. He had a system:
- Wait until the last customer left.
- Knock over exactly one trash can for dramatic effect.
- Dive head-first into the spicy chicken section like it was his personal throne.
Brogan tried to curb the habit. “You’re gonna give yourself heartburn, you fat orange idiot.” Marmalade responded by ignoring him completely and coming back smelling like garlic and regret.
Dave found the whole thing hilarious. He would ride on Brogan’s shoulder during stakeouts and chitter mockingly whenever Marmalade returned with sauce on his whiskers and a slightly dazed look in his green eyes.
The obsession got serious during the Super Corn investigation.
One night, while the gang was staking out the Mystic River silos, Marmalade disappeared for four hours. Brogan was ready to call it a night when the big cat finally returned… covered in spicy chicken sauce, eyes half-lidded in bliss, and dragging a half-empty takeout container behind him like a trophy.
Dave took one look and chattered furiously: You abandoned us for chicken?!
Marmalade gave the world’s most dignified shrug, licked a paw, and purred like a broken engine. Translation: Priorities.
But the obsession nearly cost him everything during the cat-show kidnapping.
When the show freaks snatched him, Marmalade was mid-dive into his favorite dumpster. They mistook the sauce-covered orange blur for a “magnificent new champion” and stuffed him into a carrier while he was still chewing.
For three days in captivity, Marmalade refused to eat the bland kibble they offered. He sat in his gilded cage, staring at the wall, dreaming of chili oil and crispy bits.
When Dave and Brogan finally busted him out, the first thing Marmalade did — before even acknowledging his rescuers — was make a beeline for the nearest dumpster behind the warehouse.
He emerged five minutes later, face covered in spicy General Tso’s, looking like a battle-worn king who had just reclaimed his throne.
Brogan watched him with a tired grin. “You nearly got yourself turned into a show cat… for spicy chicken?”
Marmalade flicked his tail once, then walked over and bumped his big orange head against Brogan’s leg — the closest thing to gratitude the cat ever gave.
Dave climbed onto Marmalade’s back, still grumbling, but didn’t bite him.
Later that night, back in the office, Brogan set out a small paper plate of leftover spicy chicken he’d picked up on the way home.
Marmalade ate slowly for once, savoring every bite. When he was done, he didn’t immediately demand more. Instead, he jumped onto the desk, curled up next to Dave, and let out the deepest, most contented purr Brogan had ever heard from him.
Brogan raised his scotch. “To spicy chicken,” he said. “The one thing that can make even the wandering king come home.”
Dave chattered softly in agreement.
Marmalade flicked his tail… then leaned over and gently bumped his head against Dave’s side.
The obsession wasn’t going anywhere.
But for the first time, the big orange cat seemed to understand that some things — like good friends and a warm office — were worth coming back for… even if the spicy chicken was what got him out the door in the first place.
The End.
