Why chicken, why?

At the office, it’s not that strange to see a newspaper discarded in the wastebasket in the men’s room.  But I don’t understand why I saw the remains of a chicken leg in that same wastebasket.  I wasn’t there to see who walked into the bathroom, lunch in hand.  

Theories: He needed privacy to eat.  The smell of bathroom deodorizer whetted his appetite.  He liked to watch himself chewing in a mirror measuring twenty feet wide and five feet high.  He went in there just to wash his hands before lunch but then on impulse he tore into the chicken like a lusty man.  He didn’t go in there to eat, but when he cleaned out his pockets he found some lint, a gum wrapper, and a chicken leg.  Or actually, he went in there after lunch and coughed up a whole chicken leg because he didn’t chew thoroughly.