I live in a hell hole out by SE 122nd and Division. When I moved out there, I was under the wild delusion that the neighborhood was improving. It’s getting worse. I live so far out there that you have to set your clock forward an hour when you come visit because you cross a time zone to get out to my house. We moved out there two years ago thinking that we would be out there a short while, and then we would move in closer. Now with the economy, we’re kind of stuck. Or at least we feel that way in our more self-pitying moments.

There is a psychological boundary at 82nd Avenue. Once you get out past it, you are into the hinterland. You may have a Portland address, but you are nestled into the plumber’s crack of Gresham. Good luck getting your friends to come visit. Good luck getting home after work in a reasonable amount of time. If you enjoy the entropy of decay, and being afraid, and hearing the sound of guns at night, and having meth heads rummage through your recycle bins, and occasionally being burglarized, then you will love my neighborhood.

At the nexus of the hell hole, there are various businesses: pawn shops, a swap meet, a trailer park, pizza, burgers, intimate ladies’ apparel, cheap cell phones, meat, tire repair, shoes, drugs, and laundry.

There is also a decent grocery store that prides itself on a particular thing: Cheep Cheep Chicken Monday.

That’s right folks, they sell more Cheep Cheep fried chicken than any other grocery store around. Just ask one of the deli workers and they will tell you that they are Number One. They get on the intercom and say, “Good evening Grocery Store X shoppers, it’s Cheep Cheep Chicken Monday. Come on over to the deli counter and load up on some delicious Cheep Cheep Chicken at a great price. We just brought a fresh batch out of the fryer, so get yours while it’s hot.”

I usually order the 8 piece dark meat combo, which is drumsticks and thighs. The price is certainly cheap at $5.50. I cannot comment on any “cheeping” sound that the chicken might make, but I am not around when they throw it in the fryer, so I might be missing that part. When I purchase my chicken, I rarely bother with the jojos or the distracting mayonnaise slurry salads. I don’t want anything interfering with the absorption of my Cheep Cheep Chicken.

There is another reason that I have chicky allegiance to Grocery Store X. Grocery Store Y once sold me a chicken thigh that did not have any meat or bones - it was simply a large glop of chicken batter. It weighed about a half pound. I ate it simply for the novelty of it, and so I could gross out my friends, but I no longer buy cheap chicken from Grocery Store Y.

When I get home, I put a few pieces on a plate and grab a stack of napkins and crack open an ice cold Pabst tall boy. I like mine smothered in ketchup, salt, and pepper (the chicken that is, not the tall boy). I love this stuff. I eat so much of it that I get the Cheep Cheep Chicken sweats. I go into a Cheep Cheep Chicken vision quest and just lay on the couch in a stupor of grease and sodium, and my perspective on life changes as I think of a happier Cheep Cheep time and a happier Cheep Cheep place. After eating, I stop feeling sorry for myself and notice that I’m feeling pretty darn good about things. And I enjoy the view out the window. Oh, and there is one of my nice neighbors walking by. With a lovely, well-behaved dog in tow.

What’s your favorite comfort food?