burning the chicken

I'm not much of a cook, but the one thing I'm quite proud of, is my chicken mayo sandwich. Over the weekend, after putting some chicken on the stove, I went downstairs for ten minutes. Mike and I started moving stuff around, and ten minutes turned into almost an hour. 

Mike went outside to talk to our neighbor. He asked if we were cooking something. Mike didn't realize that the chicken was still on the stove, so he just told the neighbor that we were cooking something earlier. When Mike told me about their conversation, I shouted, "The chicken!!" and we both ran upstairs. The whole house was covered in black smoke. Five minutes after Mike had removed the pot from the stove, black smoke was still coming from it. The chicken was reduced to a black, sticky, tar-like substance. (So you CAN melt chicken!?) We both decided to just throw the pot out along with the crap in it.

Now, almost a week later, the smell has still not left the house. It's like we live in a crematorium. Except, on top of that nasal treat, you can still smell the raw chicken. Weird, because what was left in that pot, would never have passed as chicken. I have left all the windows open every day since that terrible event. I have cleaned the stove and the extractor fans. I have washed the walls. I've stuck things into my nostrils.

Chicken 1. House 0.