Schwanz On Fire

Dunklezahn, son of Raging Mom, posted about "Chemical Abuse of the Penile Region." A pretty damn funny post, complete with a description of pain from each chemical. Examples are provided. Reminded me of a post that I started writing awhile back...

When I used to work for Beloit Corp, it wasn't uncommon for a couple of guys to get together and bring in a feed for everyone in the department. We'd have ribs, elk, caribou, venison, sweet corn, egg rolls... all kinds of different chow. One of my favorite's was my buddy Bob's chili. This was some of the hottest stuff I've ever had, but it still had tons of flavor. Mmmmmm...

The stuff was a little costly to make, and Bob asked for some help buying the groceries. The Perfect One and I offered, and before you knew it, we were back a my brother's place, drinkin' beer and making chili.

I wish I could tell you everything that went into that chili, but I can't. I've tried to duplicate it, and I end up coming up short. Anyways, if I started telling you all the ingredients, this would be a frickin' recipe, not a post about agony. One thing this chili had in abundance was peppers... red bell, jalapenos, habarneros, serranos. The bells were pretty much for color and sweetness.

Bob started cutting up the peppers and onions, but when he started sauteeing, I took over. Noticing that he hadn't worn any gloves, I asked if I would need them. "Nah, you won't be cutting enough to burn you..." Don't ever trust "friends."

Brews went down rapidly, as we were sampling the peppers as I was cutting them. The serranos were the only peppers that weren't fresh, and we dug the carrots out of the can and snacked on them. (They're packed with carrots to soak up the extra oils... 'least, that's what I was told.) That really sped up the beer consumption! Soon, I was finished, and we settled back to bullshit while the chili was cooking, the smell of the fresh garlic, peppers, and onions making our eyes water. A slice of heaven, it was.

I remember scratching my side, and not long after that, the beer had run it's course. I needed to make a pit stop. Not being a total fool, I washed my hands before grasping the plumbing. I thought I was being one sharp cookie...

A few minutes after I hit the can, I realized that my side felt like it was on fire. It burned badly, and it just kept getting worse. Heheh... wasn't long after that, and I was in tears. Old Sluggo soon felt engulfed in flames, too. Obviously, washing my hands did nothing for the oils of the peppers. That was the longest hour of my life...

Oh, yeah, my hands eventually caught up with everything else, but the pain was a numbing burn. It did hurt to touch anything, but burned nowhere near as bad as the burn in the southern hemisphere...

I'm only half as dumb as I look, and I walked away from the incident a much wiser man (with cinders for a schwanz) who knows to wear gloves when cutting peppers... and to never trust a smiling friend... at least when potential pain is involved.

Posted by That 1 Guy at February 9, 2006 10:21 AM