The God of Salsa
Summary: Evan buys a jar of extremely spicy salsa, and the boys turn it into a pain contest.
A/N: I'm back! I've been busy with school lately, but luckily the storm is passing and I'm free! So yeah, I'm back to writing every day now, so there will be more frequent updates and new stories. Woohoo!
BTW, this is my first story from a 1st person POV so I hope it's ok. Enjoy.
I was walking through the isles of the Bayville Supermarket, feeling like a sissy with a shopping cart in front of me and a long shopping list in my hands. Aunty O was in the next isle, humming to herself. I could hear her all the way over here, which make me more embarrassed. So, why am I grocery shopping, you might ask?
Well, see, whenever we have to go shopping, Aunty O asks someone to come with her, to help her get stuff and carry the bags, etc. No one wants to spend five hours in the store, so we draw straws, and the loser goes along. Guess what? I lost. And so here I am, scanning the soup isle for Chicken Noodle with low sodium. As if my day could get any worse.
I picked up nine cans of soup and chucked them in the cart. I checked chicken soup off the list. Great, only twenty-two more items to go, I thought sarcastically. I moved on. As I was leaving the isle, I passed a row of salsas. I saw one that looked really good, so I plucked it off the shelf and added it to the cart. "Can't hurt," I muttered out loud. Besides, we were buying a billion things. Aunty O wouldn't notice one extra item.
I continued on to get pickles (yuck), potato chips, sweet Asian cooking sauce (whatever that's for), pretzels, rice, beans, and so on and so forth. I lost track after rice and beans. My cart was embarrassingly full, but I finally had everything on the list. I walked around trying to find Aunty O, while feeling very self-conscious of the looks I was getting from other shoppers. I must have looked like an idiot to them. Or some pathetic, starving kid. Who knows.
I found her in the frozen isle, piling ice cream cartons into her cart. My mouth watered a little. "Well, I guess the trip here wasn't a total bust after all," I said, eyeing the glorious ice cream.
She rolled her eyes at me. "What is it with teenage boys and ice cream?" I shrugged. "Well, anyway, that's everything on my half of the list. Are you finished, Evan?"
"Yep. Got it all right here," I said, patting the side of my overloaded cart.
"Good. Let's check out."
I won't bore you with the details. Let's just say, I could have skateboarded from the Institute to school and back again probably ten times in the time it took us to check out. Which reminds me—I never want to help my aunt with the shopping again. I can see why everyone groans at the thought. Feeding 20-some people takes a lot of food. A lot.
We loaded the bags into the van, which took up the entire back two rows. I stepped back to look at it all. "Dude, that's a lot of food," I commented, trying to imagine how long it would take us to put it away once we got back to the Institute. Luckily, Kitty and Rouge were willing to help with groceries, so it might not be too bad.
"Well, that is enough food for about twenty students—plus the teachers—for two weeks, Evan. It takes a lot to feed every one." I groaned and put my seatbelt on.
"Yeah, I noticed." I never, ever wanted to do shopping again.
It turned out that Kitty and Rouge weren't willing to help with the groceries when we got back (they were busy watching American Idol and making fun of the singers), and Aunty O got called away by the Professor, leaving me alone. I was almost done putting away the fruits and veggies when Bobby walked into the kitchen. He glanced at me, looked away, then glanced back.
"Doing the groceries?" I nodded. Duh.
"Ouch, I feel the pain, man," he continued, laughing a little. He came up beside me and rummaged through a bag. "You guys buy any chips?" I nodded again.
Just then, he removed my jar of salsa. "Oh, what's this? Hot salsa? Man, I love this stuff."
I shrugged and handed him a bag of chips. "Knock yourself out, dude. Just don't eat all that salsa. It's mine."
Bobby nodded as he pried the lid off. He dipped his pinky into the salsa and tasted it. His face turned slightly red. "Hot!" he cried, ripping open the bag of chips and shoving a handful into his mouth.
I chuckled. "No kiddin'. I warned you, Bobby. It says 'hot' right on the label." I pointed to the little warning.
Bobby swallowed. "Yeah, but that stuff's like fire. They need a safety label on that. 'This salsa is hazardous to your health' or something."
"Vhat's hazardous to your health?" Kurt asked, just coming into the kitchen. Sam and Scott were with him.
"This salsa. Try it, guys. It's fireball salsa," Bobby offered. I snatched the salsa jar from his hands.
"Dude, it's my salsa," I said, glaring at him. I looked at Kurt, Sam, and Scott. "You guys can have a little bit, but don't go crazy."
They eagerly grabbed chips and began dipping into the salsa. "Gah, hot!" Sam said, running for the milk.
"S'not zo bad," Kurt concluded, but he had a funny expression on his face. "Hot, but not bad."
"That stuff is fireball salsa," Scott agreed. "But it's pretty good."
I tried a little myself. It wasn't so hot. "Bobby, you just can't take the heat, man. This is nice stuff."
"No, it's hot alright," Scott threw in. "I can take it, but it's definitely hot."
"Ja, that's pretty intense," Kurt added.
I shrugged. "You know they sell stuff way spicier than this, don't yah?"
"Really?" Sam asked.
I nodded. "Oh yeah."
"Oh, guys, I just had a cool idea," Scott interjected. "Why don't we have a hot salsa contest? The guy who can take the hottest salsa wins."
"I'd do it," Bobby agreed.
"Me too," Kurt and Sam said together. I nodded.
"Sure. What the heck. On one condition: someone else buys the salsas. I'm tired of shopping. I don't want to set foot in a supermarket for at least a year."
"I'll go get it," Scott offered. "I'm sure I can find some seriously hot stuff."
"Sounds good," we all agreed.
Scott returned about thirty minutes later. He had two grocery bags filled with salsa jars. We eagerly lined them up on the counter and examined them. Scott was lookin' pretty proud of himself, and it was no wonder. He'd gotten some crazy salsas with epic names like: Fuckin' Hot, 100% Chance of Pain, Liquid Lava, and Brain Damage Hot Salsa. I laughed.
"Oh god, this is gonna be fun."
The others nodded. "I never knew hot sauces had so many names," Bobby commented.
"Ja, really," Kurt added.
Scott chuckled. "You guys should have seen the brands I didn't buy. There were some ones I couldn't get for…uh…obvious reasons."
Sam grinned. "We know."
I looked back at the salsas, which had been lined up in a spectrum of pain. "Alright, are we ready to start?" I asked.
The other guys nodded. "Oh yeah."
A/N: Bwwahahahaha! What happens next? Who will win the salsa contest? Oh, well, I guess you'll just have to wait for the next chapter. BTW, all those salsa names are real brands of salsa (or hot sauces) that you can buy in stores. Who knew, right?
-The Ember Raven