Just a week or two before his shop had been smashed up, but the community around him had rallied behind the store and he was back up and running, and the competition-grade Dad's Chillibeef burger was the breakfast of the day.
I've eaten a few hot sauces in my time, oh I've even asked for "hot, hot" when ordering a Thai or Indian meal. I've endured the burn on more than one occasion, and I like to think I have an okay tolerance to chillies.
So it was with great gusto I threw myself headfirst into the burger before me, taking bite after bite until soon half of the burger was either devoured or in my mouth.
That's when the pain hit. A creeping, searing heat of 1000 burning suns spreading slowly across my tastebuds, onto my lips and even up through my forehead! (Had I touched it, I thought?
How is the pain in my forehead?) I started to go delirious, the sweat pouring from my brow as the pain rendered me unable to do my job. Throwing the microphones on I managed a muffled "The hissshhhhh hawshhh bayy" before gesturing wildly to Megan to take the reins and leave me to die in peace.
A litre of milk poured quickly down my throat, slightly easing the burn, with each sip before the fire returned to rage in my mouth once more.
It's only now, and hour and a half later that I can sit, reflect, and confirm, I'll never be a competitive chili eater. Now to contemplate the exit strategy!
- Adam Green
