Satan's Blood
A word of advice, if I may: Never, after many drinks, get into a conversation about hot sauce with a former member of the Air Force. Doing so will only inevitably lead to tragedy and heartache; a fact that was made abundantly clear to me on Friday night in much the same way that getting stabbed in the face elucidates the sharpness of knives.
Allow me to set the scene... A pleasent bar in Brooklyn; a group of friends, laughing and loving life; a crisp Friday night. Fairly close to the perfect start of a weekend if ever there was one. The beer and whiskey flowed as they do on nights like these and, yes, I will admit that I had my fair share of both. More than my fair share, if we're being entirely honest with each other. Okay, I was pretty well drunk. It was around then that the subject of hot sauce came up between Amy's boyfriend (the ex-Air Forcer) and I and it was shortly thereafter that my fate was sealed with the finality of a gunshot. Being a bit, as I said, in the bag, I began to brag about my tolerance of spicy foods. "Oh, I love the hot stuff; the hotter the better, I say! I'd sprinkle the Sun on my fried chicken were a man able to do so." And so forth. Actually, what I said was probably a lot less intelegible; something more along the lines of "Lovess hot sauce, yeah, right, you'renotsotough, wanna 'nother beer?"
At any rate, after proving myself the poster boy for hubris, I was quickly ushered to the bar and asked this question:
"Wanna try some Satan's Blood?"
The correct answer, of course, is hell no (no pun intended)! The answer that I gave on Friday night was, unfortunantly, something in the area of "Bring it on, baby. WOOOO!!!!" Even as the words left my mouth, I knew that this was a bad idea. However, as there were several pints of Brooklyn Brown and at least half a bottle of Jimmy Beam currently flying the plane, as it were, I had very little say as to what I was saying.
So I was handed a bottle that looked like this:
Ominous, right? It brought immediatly to mind the opening scene from Gremlins where the dad buys the Mogwai; I think this bottle was on the shelf behind the old Chinese guy. I was told to take a bar straw and use it to get one drop out of the liquid from the bottle. God help me, I did just that. I placed that one drop on my tounge and my first thought was, okay, that's not too bad.
My second thought was, I believe, AAAAAARRRRRRRRGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHH!!!!!
Tears ran from eyes like blood from a snipped artery. Snot flowed freely. My whole body broke out in a cold sweat and my hands started shaking. Every time I breathed in, it was like a Yugo being rear-ended in my mouth; "blooming fire" is the only way I can describe it. I staggered to my seat, attempted to drink my beer (that, of course, was like attacking a forest fire with the light mist from a spray bottle) then staggered back to the bar begging for water. The bartender, clearly having seen this little parable played out numerous times, looked at me with sad, kind eyes and said, "How about some milk?"
After downing my glass of whole cold goodness, I could at least walk without people mistaking me for a stroke victim. My lips still burned like an electric shock had run through them and my breathing was shallow, but I was back to being able to speak without fear of setting people on fire with my breath.
"So, what'd you think?"
"(half-whispered, gasping) That w-w-as pretty... rough. But not too bad."
****
Let me leave you with a few facts about Satan's Blood, just to complete the picture for you:
-Registers a whopping 800,000 units on the Scoville scale; a jalapeno registers about 2,500 units.
-Is only to be used as a food additive; it's recommend to only use three-to-five drops in two gallons of barbeque sauce.
-Gettting this stuff on your skin can burn you like an acid.
And this is what I put in my mouth, willingly, on a Friday night in Brooklyn. Because I am a moron.
Allow me to set the scene... A pleasent bar in Brooklyn; a group of friends, laughing and loving life; a crisp Friday night. Fairly close to the perfect start of a weekend if ever there was one. The beer and whiskey flowed as they do on nights like these and, yes, I will admit that I had my fair share of both. More than my fair share, if we're being entirely honest with each other. Okay, I was pretty well drunk. It was around then that the subject of hot sauce came up between Amy's boyfriend (the ex-Air Forcer) and I and it was shortly thereafter that my fate was sealed with the finality of a gunshot. Being a bit, as I said, in the bag, I began to brag about my tolerance of spicy foods. "Oh, I love the hot stuff; the hotter the better, I say! I'd sprinkle the Sun on my fried chicken were a man able to do so." And so forth. Actually, what I said was probably a lot less intelegible; something more along the lines of "Lovess hot sauce, yeah, right, you'renotsotough, wanna 'nother beer?"
At any rate, after proving myself the poster boy for hubris, I was quickly ushered to the bar and asked this question:
"Wanna try some Satan's Blood?"
The correct answer, of course, is hell no (no pun intended)! The answer that I gave on Friday night was, unfortunantly, something in the area of "Bring it on, baby. WOOOO!!!!" Even as the words left my mouth, I knew that this was a bad idea. However, as there were several pints of Brooklyn Brown and at least half a bottle of Jimmy Beam currently flying the plane, as it were, I had very little say as to what I was saying.
So I was handed a bottle that looked like this:
Ominous, right? It brought immediatly to mind the opening scene from Gremlins where the dad buys the Mogwai; I think this bottle was on the shelf behind the old Chinese guy. I was told to take a bar straw and use it to get one drop out of the liquid from the bottle. God help me, I did just that. I placed that one drop on my tounge and my first thought was, okay, that's not too bad.
My second thought was, I believe, AAAAAARRRRRRRRGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHH!!!!!
Tears ran from eyes like blood from a snipped artery. Snot flowed freely. My whole body broke out in a cold sweat and my hands started shaking. Every time I breathed in, it was like a Yugo being rear-ended in my mouth; "blooming fire" is the only way I can describe it. I staggered to my seat, attempted to drink my beer (that, of course, was like attacking a forest fire with the light mist from a spray bottle) then staggered back to the bar begging for water. The bartender, clearly having seen this little parable played out numerous times, looked at me with sad, kind eyes and said, "How about some milk?"
After downing my glass of whole cold goodness, I could at least walk without people mistaking me for a stroke victim. My lips still burned like an electric shock had run through them and my breathing was shallow, but I was back to being able to speak without fear of setting people on fire with my breath.
"So, what'd you think?"
"(half-whispered, gasping) That w-w-as pretty... rough. But not too bad."
****
Let me leave you with a few facts about Satan's Blood, just to complete the picture for you:
-Registers a whopping 800,000 units on the Scoville scale; a jalapeno registers about 2,500 units.
-Is only to be used as a food additive; it's recommend to only use three-to-five drops in two gallons of barbeque sauce.
-Gettting this stuff on your skin can burn you like an acid.
And this is what I put in my mouth, willingly, on a Friday night in Brooklyn. Because I am a moron.
posted by Clinton at 9:44 AM
3 Comments:
Good for you for dissolving your insides on a dare! And contratulations to science for finally making an 800,000 Scoville food. Next stop, cold fusion!
An awful idea regarding Haloween candy, Satan's Blood, and cruelty just occured to me. . .
I never thought I'd say this, but I actually have to much of a heart to use Satan's Blood for prank purposes.
It's THAT brutal.
One time I had some "megasaurus" hot sauce and some garlic salt through a straw. It was quite a lot, actually. My experience was similar to your, with more swearing and more camera phones.
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