It's done now

Andy came home from work

and said his chicken didn't seem cooked enough. He grabbed a smaller piece for dinner and put the larger piece back in the oven. He realized it was in there two hours later when he went to use the restroom. He baked a piece of chicken at 350 F. for more than two hours. It's done now, but he won't be eating it. It hardly looks recognizable. Maybe I should tell him that stoves have this handy thing called a timer? At least we both had a good laugh about it.