Friends and family of 2 A.M. chicken nuggets,

Thank you for coming. We are gathered here today to reflect on and cherish the lives of our late chicken nuggets. Around 2 A.M. last night, six of our most beloved little nugs were snatched away from their home, McDonald’s #32764. They were placed in a small box by a large latex hand and transferred to a Nissan Versa filled with four college students. Shortly after, they were introduced to their new residence of a college apartment. It was here that friends of friends have told me that the chicken nuggets’ last words consisted of a game of "guess that aroma." They concluded that the strange smells were Four Loko, Papa John's and tears.

It’s truly unfortunate that their last minutes on earth were spent trying to figure out what savages would live in such an environment. Although, it didn’t take them too long to figure it out. As a young woman was sloppily pouring herself Gatorade and taking an Advil, her $3 nail polished fingers went in for the first chicken nugget. Immediately after, she ate golden delicacies number three, four and five at once by constructing them into a small nugget tower. Finally, even though he fell onto the kitchen floor for longer than 5 seconds, she devoured our last remaining friend in one bite.

Not all chicken nuggets can live long lives, but all nuggets can live happy lives. So, to my truest loves, I know this isn't a goodbye, this is only a see you later. I don't know where I'll be in my next life, but I do know that wherever I go, you'll be there too. I'd like to believe that I'm a decent human being, and decent human beings don't get too screwed over in whatever afterlife they end up in. This being said, I would like whoever is in charge of life after death, please, for the love of all things good, let me live in a world with only the dankest of chicken nuggets.