It always struck me as odd, this story about the lady who found a finger in her Wendy’s Chili.
I mean, everybody heard the story, and went "Ewwwwww…". But the question nobody asked (it seemed) was . . .
Whose finger was it?
One would assume that somewhere there would be a Wendy’s person with four fingers somewhere, right? Or a cattle rancher? Right?
Meanwhile, the lady, whose name is Anna Ayala, was busy whoring herself on television, as one often does, with her attorney, as one often does when they are preparing to sue the ass off of a major corporation and they don’t want to blow their case.
Suddenly though, when the police show up at her house with a search warrant, Ms. Ayala grows "sick of" and "tired of" the whole story.
And where is your dead Aunt, Ms. Ayala? More importantly, how many fingers are on your dead aunt’s corpse, Ms. Ayala?