The Secret in the Fryer

In my past life, I ran a food cart selling loaded French fries. The stall next to mine belonged to an older woman named Brenda who sold roasted turkey legs.

Her legs were a huge hit, but I could tell at a single glance that they weren't turkey at all. They were cheap, discarded duck legs—and some of them were visibly covered in mold.

I quietly warned the regular college kids not to get scammed.

Instead of thanking me, they turned around, cursed me out for being a jealous hater, and snitched on me to Brenda.