Why Tequila and Jalapenos Should Never Marry

Way back when, but really not that far away, we did a little contest on Scribophile for fun. You signed up to challenge opponents in writing a piece, using the avatars you chose as your ‘gladiator’. This is the piece I came up with first which brought me through the to the second round where I got pummeled. Cest la vie. Enjoy!

This is a logo I created for my brother-in-law's homebrewed beer.

This is a logo I created for my brother-in-law’s homebrewed beer.

The night blurry from making love to a bottle of tequila, I wake to the grit of sand instead of lush grass beneath me. Little worms dance the samba with a jalapeno sporting giant melons in front of my eyes. A puff of air washes over me, smelling like tuna left out in the sun to fester. My eyes blink and my vision focuses on the biggest pussy I have ever seen. Huge claws and a face puckered as if it had been deprived of a litter box for far too long, the tiger snarls.

I do what any self-respecting woman would in my prone position. I scream. I sissy slap the tiger across its whiskered cheeks, stunning the feline with my unorthodox high-pitched wail. It could also have been a product of my foot connecting with its hanging grapefruits. The worm and jalapeno now dance to AC/DC’s “Big Balls” in my waking dream. I blink when I realize the two were floating right by the tiger’s enormous head. Salvation from the orange and black terror. My hands grab the ripe melons of the jalapeno, much to his protest, and I squish those glorious globes into the eyes of the tiger.

Great. Now Survivor’s “Eye of the Tiger” is playing in my head.

The beast roars again, and I counter with another Mariah Carey-like warble. The worm is my next victim, taking that alcohol-soaked vermin and tossing it into the maw of the tiger. An offering to the carnivorous gods. The Jalapeno turns bright red, his salsa partner lost in a sea of jagged teeth but I have no time for a pepper paroxysm. I snatch the jalapeno and a handful of sand.

High in the air I leap, releasing the tiny granules of sand into the Tiger’s melon-laced eyes. The grains mix with the juices in one sticky mess. The Jalapeno struggles in my hands as if it knows my nefarious and deviant plot. I skid to a stop behind the tiger and give his hanging sack a good thorough punt with my foot again. His balls go through the uprights, or at least tickle his colon. Its tail juts up in the air and with a scream from my pepper friend, I plunge that hot tamale where the sun doesn’t shine. I make a mental note to thoroughly bleach my hand later.

Violated by laws in about seven or so states, the feline rears and clutches at its belly. In the confines of the fur, I notice a little wiggling bulge. Like two lovers reunited, I hear the sweet serenade of the worm and jalapeno through the clenched jaw of the tiger. The beast falls over, succumbing to the burning taint of alcohol combined with spicy food cha-chaing in his abdomen.

My only thought as I leave the fallen feline is I’m glad he’s got an ocean’s worth of sand to do his business in and I don’t have to clean it up.


Tag! You’re It!

So the very cheeky JA Belfield tagged me after being smacked on the bottom herself. Thus, I am bound by friendship that stretches across vast oceans to answer her questions.

…I must admit, I wondered which one of my alter egos should answer these. 😉

1. You’re stranded on a snowy mountain after the aircraft transporting you to [wherever the heck you like] makes a crash landing. Out of the 6 passengers and 2 pilots, only 2 have survived. You … and some dude who looks shockingly like your number 1 book boyfriend. But … you’ve now been stranded for close to 89 hours, and the closest you’ve seen to a food source is staring right back at you. So … which part of him do you plan to eat first? First thing is to trick him by pretending I actually have an interest in him sexually. You know, stroke their ‘ego’. Then it’s all about the ride and the snap of the neck. Which part? hmmmm… I’d say brains but since it’s a man, there’s not much nutritional value there. I’ll assume that this plan crash happens on the tail end of me riding the cotton pony so I’ll start with his heart. *insert devil horns here*

2. So … you have an evening of glitz and glamour ahead. But being the super secret spy you are, you already foresee the night ending in a run for your life (or to protect your anonymity). Which means the all important decision of footwear becomes a little complicated. Do you go for your favourite pair of freakishly awesome Jimmy Choos and hope you don’t end up on a cobblestone street? Or do you say to heck with it, and wear a skirt long enough to cover your battered Nikes? I have no problems running barefoot and a good pair of high heels make for great weapons. 😀 Of course, this all hinges on whether I want to be caught or not…. meow.

3. If a global law was instated that each and every citizen of every country could only ever eat ONE type of cake for the duration of their lives and they each had to sign a contract binding them to their decision, what cake would you choose as your ‘can’t live without’?Tiramasu… I swear I have like eight orgasms with each bite.

4. If you could choose ANY book (no matter how impossible the graphics required might seem) to be made into a film (movie for the U.S.ers), what book would you choose? I’ve always wanted to see my favorite book The Brotherhood of the Rose in movie film version. Unaltered and following the book. They did a made for TV version and it sucked donkey balls. Really. That’s what happened to the flick when it bombed and it got chased into the alleyways. Poor donkeys.

5. Okay, seeing as I brought it up above in the stranded question I have to know: who’s your No 1 (ONLY 1!) book boyfriend? The. Ultimate. Fictional Male. Of your dreams!? You know, I’d probably go with Theives World’s Shadowspawn. I loves me some thieves.

6. And still with the book boyfriend, we’ll presume you didn’t eat all of him before the two of you were rescued, and he’s a forgiving kind of guy. So now he’s agreed to a date that doesn’t have him on the menu (at least not as the starter, anyway, if you get my gist). What’s the date? Where, what, why, how? A nice gritty bar that serves kick ass wings… maybe the Tilted Kilt or Mullen’s in Pittsburgh. Then I’d drag him to the South Side for a Penguins game. 😀 Since he’s a thief, he could score us a couple of tickets… or his left toe gets it, see?

7. The government are clamping down on the atrocity otherwise known as social networking. Every social networker is permitted only one platform. So … which one can’t you live without? Choose your poison. Facebook. Why can’t I quit you?

8. The hot girl always used to pick on you at school. She had all the boys flocking round her. All the cool kids following behind like sniffer dogs after crack (no pun intended … honestly). And some years have passed since you walked out of those school gates for the last time and thanked the heavens you’d never have to deal with her again. But then you walk into your local burger bar … and get served … by Miss Popular. Except she most certainly ain’t looking quite so pretty any more. To add to that, the server next to her is asking how she got on with finding a baby sitter for her rambunctious triplets. Tell me: is she worth your scorn? Or can you not resist the impulse to wallow in your better life? I wouldn’t say anything to her. All the tongue-kissing praise goes to Karma.

9. Okay, an easier one for you as I’ve been pretty hard: what is your EARLIEST childhood memory? Is it even from this lifetime? 😉 Germany. I was no more than two and we were going up those cable-suspended trollies up into the mountains. I can never remember their names. I remember seeing the white peaks. Everything else is in pictures.

10. If you could travel through time, which year would you travel back to and why? Back to when my mother was a teenager. Just to see how an Italian family lived and breahed with each other. Several generations in one household. Yeah, and hearing my great grandfather swear. 😀

11. And finally: we’ve suddenly discovered an anonymous donor is willing to pay for us all to get together but we only have 24 hours to argue and fight discuss rationally the destination. Which city’s corner are you fighting for? Venice, Italy. We can’t drink the water but we could oogle the Italian hotties. Meow…