Some time around Easter my parents were given a chocolate chicken that seemed to be carefully hand painted with some kind of magical sugar paint. The moment that this got back to my parents house their conversations started to rage on if it was hollow or not.
I decided that the only way to find out would be to bite its head off in the most violent manor possible. For some reason my mother still looks proud of me. Probably because she had been hanging out with Mr. Jack Daniels before that.