The hot broth treatment appears to be getting to this poor chicken.
He is sitting in a bowl of self soup, the culinary equivalent of strangling yourself with your own intestines.
And look at his posture. Clearly, he's in the throes of the later stages of avian dementia. One wing propping up his head. Feet languidly drooping over the "tub." He's having the time of his "life," as his organs congeal and he simmers to perfection.
Then there's his "Eat my noodles" demand. Although we hate to point it out, that's not a noodle he's eating. (Does the chicken believe he comes equipped with noodles?) No, he's temptingly dangling some errant scrap of flesh. His gizzard, maybe. We understand chickens consider them quite the delicacy.
(Thanks to Dr. Jones for the referral.)