As the your throat ignites in flames, literally, from consuming
one of the questionably sticky chicken wings,
you begin to realize that when they said they
had a "killer chef" they really meant it.
With your dying gasp you notice the disclaimer
on the back of the napkin your head is spinning
towards at a great speed, on it reading: "The
Tavern of the Drunken Monkey does not accept
responsibility for any side effects as a result
of consumption of food by undead cooks. Please
enjoy the chicken wings."