the acceptance of defeat

Around 8:30pm, a vehicle with Mare, K$ and I pulled into the Crossroads shopping center off Burnet to enjoy some wings at Pluckers. Neil and Gunner were already waiting by the entrance.

What ensued behind those doors was the anticipated battle between me and wings covered in Fire In The Hole sauce. To prepare myself, I also ordered a handful of teriyaki wings and a handful of Jamaican jerk wings. The jerk wings weren’t too great, but the teriyaki wings were delicious.

I was bold enough to attempt to conquer ten Fire In The Hole wings. I felt ready. K$ had ordered ten himself, and Neil ordered five. The heat was on.

To get on the Wall of Flame, someone has to eat at least 25 Fire In The Hole wings. I wanted to get on that wall. The reigning champ is some guy who conquered 120 wings. Insanity.

Have you ever been up for challenge you felt you could win but got schooled so hard regardless? That was me tonite. Ten gallons of water later, I only made it through seven wings and just had to throw in the towel. We spent over two hours at Pluckers as we tried to conquer the Fire In The Hole wings to no avail.

I admit it. Fire In The Hole wings are ruthless. Evidence of the sauce is still embedded in my fingertips, and I’m reminded of the mortal kombat that ensued known as eating Fire In The Hole wings. I’ve even washed my hands with soap and hot water. Still, it’s like when you get gasoline on your skin. The essence won’t go away until it feels like it.

In the wise words written for the caption on the guy’s Polaroid who ate the 120 wings, “The poo flame cometh.”

Author: Sig

Modern Soapbox is the blog of Sig.

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