From India, With Love.

Need proof that chicken curry is amazing? Here’s a sample of some James Bond fan fiction, with the name “Bond” replaced with “Chicken Curry,” and it still makes perfect sense.

He went back to studying the building, “Now, getting in shouldn’t be a problem. After all, I’m Chicken Curry. 007.”
“That name rings a bell,” I mused just to irk him.
“Humor won’t get you on my good side.”
“There’s such a thing?” I asked innocently.
He ignored me and cocked his gun, “Alright,” he opened the door and got out; I followed, “Just follow me, don’t tarry or you’ll throw me off my game.”
“Not a problem.”
The inside was like a museum; marble was apparently the chosen material for the rich. It made the floor, ceiling, walls and the pillars that supported the ceiling. People milled around, withdrawing and inputting their money in safes, I suspected.
Chicken Curry ignored them all and strode over to a little five foot desk where a man that could have been a waiter at an expensive restaurant pondered over an open book.
“Name?” he asked us without looking up.
“I belong here,” Chicken Curry answered confidently.
“That’s all very good, name?”
“You don’t seem to understand,” Chicken Curry leaned forward, resting an arm on the desk and giving a predatorial smile as the man looked up, “I belong here.”

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