I tell anyone when the subject of Costco comes up — it is the happiest place on earth. It is adult Disneyland. Every trip to their cavernous warehouses is marked with joy, wonderment and discovery. My visit today was no different.

One of the retailer’s famous offerings is a whole 3-pound rotisserie chicken for a measly $4.99, a price that hasn’t changed since 2009. The item is so popular (87 million sold in 2017) that to meet demand and control costs, Costco has started to raise its own birds.

At that price and size, it’s beyond impossible to find a better deal on a roasted clucker…right?

No. No, it is not impossible.

Sitting in one of their refrigerators was a deal so beautiful that it caused me to pause and reacquaint myself with the emotion known as joy — an emotion that I thought I had long lost.

Three rotisserie chicken halves for $5.99! That’s essentially one whole 3-pound rotisserie chicken for $4.99 and a 1.5 pound rotisserie chicken half for an extra buck! Or three rotisserie chicken halves for $2 each!

What could have created this bounty? Did they raise too many chickens at Costco Farms? Was Mr. Costco, who I assume is the founder of Costco, feeling generous toward his members today? Did a crazed butcher go on a poultry murder-spree, and unload their victims/evidence into Costco’s supply chain?

Or was it more than likely that these were leftover $4.99 chickens from the previous night’s close of business, priced to move rather than discarded out back?

I really didn’t care and gave it no more thought.

To my bewilderment, most customers seemed to be missing this tucked away cache of cock, and were programmatically simply picking up $4.99 chickens. I calmly grabbed two packages of the discounted hens and headed toward the front-of-store cashiers. Even my clerk was taken aback by the price and called over a co-worker to point out the fowl windfall I had stumbled upon. I truly felt like a king. A king of roasted chickens (probably in a constitutional monarchy, but that’s still a pretty good gig).

I arrived home. At this point my feelings of joy intensified and eventually ran over into something I could not control. As I sat picking away at my large-breasted treasure, I found that I could only cope in the manner preferred by so many of history’s great lovers: By writing a poem so I could always be reminded of how it feels to know such happiness.

The chickens were brave
For Costco to perfect on a plate
Six bucks for three halves?
Fuck that sounds great