Thought I had already posted this one, but a brief search suggests not.
So speaking of Primo and familial misadventures, on many of my trips down to visit family, he and I spend quite a bit of time together. He's just a wee bit older than I, but we share many of the same interests, sense of humor, and/or immaturities. We hadn't really delved into the potentially large realm of pranks, save for a few times. Usually his (pranks), at my (painful) expense.
One very late and unusually... bright & loud morning, he and I stumbled and fumbled our way through our morning routines to prepare for the day. Sleep would have been preferable, but this was a day to visit the Tias, and if there is one thing you don't do, it's piss off your Tias by electing to sleep away the day. [shudder] Now, when I say 'Tias' (the spanish word for 'aunt'), I should probably mention that Dad only had one actual, living sister. The family also uses the word for grand-aunts, all of Dad's female cousins, further-extended family relatives (by blood, marriage, or sentiment), and for good measure, close family friends.
Before getting to the actual day, well, you gotta put something in your belly, right? Primo asked if I wanted anything for breakfast. I told him that as long as there was coffee, I was up for whatever. Bachelors that we were, we heated up some rice and stew-type leftovers, fried a couple of eggs, and called it a feast.
As we plopped the plates on the table, he asked if I wanted any sauces for the food. I had noticed a shallow bowl with a greenish type of sauce in it, and asked him if that was guacamole. He chuckled and told me that it was something they called, 'aji'. He told me, "pruebalo, es rico" [try it, it's good stuff].
Now, I recognized that it was some sort of spice, and while I don't have to have hot 'n spicey with every meal, I do like a little bit of variety now and then. I am, hover, not stupid (you in the back, shut up and wait for it like everyone else), so I dipped the tip of my spoon in the dip, for the taste... - [translated] "What's the matter, sissyboy afraid of a little spice" he asked? He plunked his spoon in the spice bowl, scooped up a spoonfull, and popped it in his mouth.
Well, now that my manliness was on the line, (it's not stupid, it's machismo, dammit), I took a big ole heap on my spoon and started to raise it to my mouth... "hey now" he said, "why not mix it with your rice?"
Apparently, he only wanted to play a joke, not be charged with reckless homicide.
I grunted, dropped most of the spice into the bowl, and essentially put my lightly spice coated spoon into the heaping pile of rice on my plate. I swirled a few times and again raised my spoon to my mouth...
I got about as far as HOLYMOTHEROFTHESWEETCRYINGBA- before my tongue melted off, abandoned the burning ship that was the remnants of my mouth, and scampered away in search of the south pole.
Primo was quite amused.
Grabbing for the nearest drink of anything, I slammed down about half a culp of scalding hot coffee. That was... an interesting experience.
He was howling.
I could picture the expression on their face and the phrase uttered by nearly all females of the family when, for whatever reason (read: fifths of any plate can be a little much), I would decline any of their food. "Don't you like my cooking, my dear?" [sadlook and/or poutface]
About then's where I think he actually dribbled a little bit of pee.
He neglected to tell me that they grow up on spicey - practially put the stuff in the baby bottle from birth - my 'spicy' would be downright bland, to him.
So speaking of Primo and familial misadventures, on many of my trips down to visit family, he and I spend quite a bit of time together. He's just a wee bit older than I, but we share many of the same interests, sense of humor, and/or immaturities. We hadn't really delved into the potentially large realm of pranks, save for a few times. Usually his (pranks), at my (painful) expense.
One very late and unusually... bright & loud morning, he and I stumbled and fumbled our way through our morning routines to prepare for the day. Sleep would have been preferable, but this was a day to visit the Tias, and if there is one thing you don't do, it's piss off your Tias by electing to sleep away the day. [shudder] Now, when I say 'Tias' (the spanish word for 'aunt'), I should probably mention that Dad only had one actual, living sister. The family also uses the word for grand-aunts, all of Dad's female cousins, further-extended family relatives (by blood, marriage, or sentiment), and for good measure, close family friends.
It was a loooong day, lemme tell ya.
Before getting to the actual day, well, you gotta put something in your belly, right? Primo asked if I wanted anything for breakfast. I told him that as long as there was coffee, I was up for whatever. Bachelors that we were, we heated up some rice and stew-type leftovers, fried a couple of eggs, and called it a feast.
As we plopped the plates on the table, he asked if I wanted any sauces for the food. I had noticed a shallow bowl with a greenish type of sauce in it, and asked him if that was guacamole. He chuckled and told me that it was something they called, 'aji'. He told me, "pruebalo, es rico" [try it, it's good stuff].
Now, I recognized that it was some sort of spice, and while I don't have to have hot 'n spicey with every meal, I do like a little bit of variety now and then. I am, hover, not stupid (you in the back, shut up and wait for it like everyone else), so I dipped the tip of my spoon in the dip, for the taste... - [translated] "What's the matter, sissyboy afraid of a little spice" he asked? He plunked his spoon in the spice bowl, scooped up a spoonfull, and popped it in his mouth.
Well, now that my manliness was on the line, (it's not stupid, it's machismo, dammit), I took a big ole heap on my spoon and started to raise it to my mouth... "hey now" he said, "why not mix it with your rice?"
Apparently, he only wanted to play a joke, not be charged with reckless homicide.
I grunted, dropped most of the spice into the bowl, and essentially put my lightly spice coated spoon into the heaping pile of rice on my plate. I swirled a few times and again raised my spoon to my mouth...
I got about as far as HOLYMOTHEROFTHESWEETCRYINGBA- before my tongue melted off, abandoned the burning ship that was the remnants of my mouth, and scampered away in search of the south pole.
Primo was quite amused.
Grabbing for the nearest drink of anything, I slammed down about half a culp of scalding hot coffee. That was... an interesting experience.
He was howling.
I could picture the expression on their face and the phrase uttered by nearly all females of the family when, for whatever reason (read: fifths of any plate can be a little much), I would decline any of their food. "Don't you like my cooking, my dear?" [sadlook and/or poutface]
About then's where I think he actually dribbled a little bit of pee.
He neglected to tell me that they grow up on spicey - practially put the stuff in the baby bottle from birth - my 'spicy' would be downright bland, to him.
7 comments:
Must be a guy thing. My brothers used to do the same thing to each other and their buddies, cousins, etc...
And then my sweet, darling sons began doing to each other and their friends.
I actually caught my youngest getting buddies to PAY him to eat habanero sauce straight from the bottle!
His mercenary little heart does a mother proud.
LOL
Just one question comes to mind...Have you always been such a trusting soul?
LOL
Ive been on both sides of the practical joke spectrum and that is a goooooooood one
Hoo boy... been there, did that out in Pecos at my Uncle's ranch...
"About then's where I think he actually dribbled a little bit of pee."
Please, will you put a warning in the title of the your posts that will cause laughing out loud? Seriously, I am going to have to stop reading your stuff at work!
I remember a burger joint in Houston that served all their burgers with jalapeno's. You had to request "No Hots" or by default they'd load em on. My first bite - well some things are better left to one's imagination. Great post sir!
I used to sacrifice my own pain by bringing fresh jalepenos to school and would dare the other kids to eat them whole in the middle of class.
I could hold my own but the others would run around screaming and ulitmately be sent to the office.
I learned from experience that you NEED to recon for anything of the "bread" persuasion (preferably in quantity) before going the "hot ops" route...!
(items should never be farther than one's elbow)
Drinking anything is like tossing gas on napalm.
Stil LMAO over this post.
nice one.
;)
B.G.
Post a Comment