Fire down below

 

I run into many interesting people during the course of my day in Boston.
This morning a customer took me by surprise with a true story that was just too damn funny not to share. I am not making this up folks.
May not be suitable for reading the kids before bed either.
I made mention of the fact that I had made chili on Wednesday when BLH said, “I gotta good chili story for ya.”

In the (somewhat) paraphrased words of BLH:

“This was several years ago when I was living next to two gay guys.
Great guys, too.
They did their thing, I did mine, ya know?
Live and let live, I say.
Anyway, my kitchen window looked right into theirs as it was less than 15 feet away.
So this one summer day, I’m making chili.
Beautiful day, windows open, music on and I’m chopping up onions and garlic and Habanero peppers for my chili.
I leave the kitchen for a minute to go and take a piss and resume my cooking.
It’s not even 2 minutes later that  ‘Mr. Willy’ starts to heat up.
Like really heating up.
I look at the Habanero peppers now nicely chopped and look down at my crotch and think, “Dear God, no.”
Within 5 minutes, I realize that ‘Mr. Willy’ needs some serious medical attention.
This is getting painful.
And really hot.
I get a facecloth, soak it in cold water and drop my pants right there in the middle of the kitchen.
It didn’t take long to realize that all the wet facecloth did was move all the hot stuff down to my
two soon-to-be ‘Hot Mexican jumping beans’.
I was in too much pain and making too many oohs and ahhs to realize that I was also gathering something of an audience 15 feet across the way.
With my crotch turning into a smoking Mojave desert, I was getting desperate.
(Is that steam?)
Christ, I’m on fire down there!
I suddenly remembered buying a big container of sour cream for the chili and
waddled like a penguin over to the fridge.
I ripped open the container like a madman, took a fistful of the cool white stuff
and began rubbing it in gobs into the raging fire down below.
My oohs, ahhs and general sounds of relief were obviously misinterpreted by my now smiling neighbors across the way.
There I am with my pants down, breathing heavy, and sour cream smeared all over my crotch.
Beautiful.
A proud Kodak moment for me, ya know?
I’m close to my mother so I told her the story, and man, did she laugh.
Two weeks later, I’m out to breakfast with her at a place she frequently goes.
The waitress brings my breakfast of fried eggs, home fries and bacon
but on the side of the plate is a small tub of sour cream.
I asked the waitress, “What’s up with the sour cream?”
She winked and said, “Your mother says you really like it.”
(I am laughing hysterically now)
You’ll be thinking about this every time you make chili now, right?”

Yeah, BLH, you are sooo right.
Was it a funny Thursday morning for me?
You betcha schweet bippie.
Thanks for a great tale, BLH
You have total attribution.
I just hope I did you some justice.
(BLH’s version is much funnier but has a different rating)
Hopefully ’Mr. Willy’ has found some cooler climes by now.
And, BLH, I hope you were using low-fat sour cream.
That regular stuff is just plain nasty . . .

7 Comments

  • Very funny…..but the “visual” was a little too vivid!! LOL…. I need to get out more and meet such interesting people!!

  • Well you said you were going to publish it…and I too am laughing my ass off reading my own story. And you were right on target about the rating, mine was a tad more graphic.
    Glad I made your day, after all you return the favor ALL the time

    You may not stop back and see this but know that you are the NADS!!!!!
    NSTAR Rocks! (or not)

  • ye-OWCH! i’ve done the “rub the eyes while cutting up peppers” thing, which is a gnarly mistake you only make once… but the “mr. willy jumpin’ taco dance” gives truly new meaning to ‘fire down below’… yikes!

    Jumpin’ Tacos?
    Yes!!!!!!
    Thanks, DF
    ~m

  • OMFG!!! I’m almost hysterical with laughter here!!!
    My problem is I get the image in my head and it refuses to go away.
    I need more of these stories on a Friday afternoon after a looooong week at work.
    BLH, I applaud you for being game to tell people this tale.
    Then again, if you can’t take the mickey out of yourself life is sad too.
    It’s a great Aussie tradition!
    :music:


    Just wait until you meet ‘The Man’ . . .
    ~m

  • This IS funny, but I kept waiting for the two gay guys to play a role in the story. When he finally went to the restaurant and the sour cream showed up on his plate, I thought for sure one of them worked in the restaurant.

    Those hot peppers can really sting! I once rubbed my eye when I was chopping them and it looked like I had conjunctivitis for a 24 hours.

    Kat

    P.S. Tell your friend yogurt is the way to go.

    The gay guys may have played more of a role than I was privy to.
    I may never know. (do I really want to know?) LOL
    Thanks for stopping by, PK
    ~m

  • OMG, by the time I got to the waddling penquin, I was laughing so much I could hardly read! I’m sure I’ll never look at sour cream again without remembering this story.

    The amazing thing is that this was a true story!
    I wish you could hear my friend tell it.
    May be time to video and throw it up on YouTube.
    It would probably go viral!
    ~m

  • Nothing like a good heat session to put you on the right track. I hope you’re right and he used light sour cream the regular sour cream might of been a bit heavy? I to will never be able to cook or eat chilli without thinking of this story and will always remember to wash my hands before and after when going for a piss. Great story mate.
    Burnie

    Chopped Jalapenos/Serranos and fingertips just don’t mix!
    Remember the story!
    Cool your junk!
    ~m

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