Sixteen dollar a pound chicken breast

A market opened up across the street from my apartment building. It's one of those real fancy ones that try and be like Whole Foods, with the organic foods and all that. So I was all excited as I entered the first time...that was until I saw the Chicken Breast. It was $16 per pound. I'm not exaggerating. Now, grant it, it was boneless, dye free, antibiotic, organic and grass feed, raised in a farm yard, not a cage, probably went to chicken dances on fri nights and had a feather bed to plop down in her hutch with a view after a long day of lounging around the barn yard and and all that. But really...SIXTEEN DOLLARS?? Who can afford this? And, even if you could, why would you pay $16 to give a chicken the good life before you killed it, threw it in the stew and masticated its tender blue-blood flesh? I mean for that money, I expect soooo very much more. I want to know what the chicken's name was. I want to know it's chick-hood nickname that only her mommie used? I want photos and hand-written letters from the chicken as it grew up, thanking me for sponsoring it's life of leisure. I want periodic video messages showing the chicken having fun at the thursday night mixers and the sunday morning brunches I paid for. I want a fucking ashtray made by the chicken, personalized to me. I want to know what the chicken's hobbies were, it's fears, it's hopes, how it spent its time in the barn yard. I want a letter from the grieving organic, grass-fed, gluten-free goose who was the chicken's lover and long-time companion detailing the chicken's final days and last words. THAT'S WHAT I WANT FOR MY SIXTEEN FUCKING DOLLARS!!!!!