I seem to be developing a secret, insidious, addiction. To this:
Sri-sria-sriracha…chachacha… What the hell IS this stuff anyway? I sure as hell can’t pronounce it. And what the hell is made out of? Radioactive waste? It tastes like it! And though it says, “Natural Color!” in a starburst graphic on the label, they’ve got to be lying. This stuff is HOT, a personal defense weapon, with rooster on the label, and a handy, green, squirt top. It’s so hot, the second time I tried it, I was dancing back and forth on my feet, shoving ice cubes onto my tongue and inventing new swearwords.
Then here comes the three year old asking, “Mommy? What does motherfucking assballs mean?”
Wait, did I say that was the SECOND time I tried it? What happened the FIRST time, you ask? A local noodle shop keeps bottles of the stuff on their tables. Pushers. Innocently, I tried a squirt in my bowl of pad thai a couple of weeks ago. Then I added a little more. And then a little more. Until my mouth was on fire, but I found I still added more. That was the first sign.
A week later, I saw some in the Asian market we visit to get those little rice paper candies that the kids love. I found myself buying it, slipping it into my basket without looking, like, “Oh, this is no big deal.” Second sign.
The aforementioned second time I actually ate the stuff, I put WAY TOO MUCH on a sardine sandwich. Yeah, I eat sardines. What’s it to you? It’s not like you can smell my breath over the internet. I didn’t realize how bad it was at first. The burning, not my breath! Sheesh. But this hot sauce, it’s a slow build. Tasty, tasty, chew, chew, until WHAMMO, my lips were swelling and I was crying and…well, it wasn’t pretty.
Needless to say, after that terrible, painful, experience, I threw the whole bottle away.
An hour later, I got it back out of the trash. Third sign.
The very next day saw me tentatively putting an orange smear on a burger. Then a little more… What the hell was I doing? I had just gotten chemicals burns from the stuff the night before! You see where I’m going with this? You see what’s happening here?
Maybe I’m chasing the endorphins….?
I went back to the noodle shop yesterday and was going nuts with it, laying on the orange, eyes watering, “No, no, I’m okay—” but obviously, I am not okay. I think I need an intervention.
And now, I’m trying to think up food I can make with the express purpose of putting more of this stuff on it. What would go well with bottled lava? What would be tasty with gasoline? There’re going to find me twitching in a ditch, red-orange slime smeared around my mouth, my eyes rolled back in my head.
I just gave up caffeine. Maybe this is a replacement drug? Will I develop a superpower of intolerance to pain as a result of eating it? I think I’m going to go have some right now…[slaps self].
What is the matter with me?