|Dangerspouse Rides Again|
Garage - Track
Jan. 22, 2005 - 2:56 p.m.
However the one, inexplicable exception is wasabi. She's got a corrosion proof gut when it comes to those little green mounds of paste served with sushi. She won't eat my Shrimp fra Diabolo, but when we order tekka maki down at Wok-n-Sushi she asks for extra wasabi, and sucks it all down.
So she figured the coated peanuts would be just as innocuous.
Seconds after NewWifey(tm) popped the first one in her mouth she started crying. Red rimmed eyes streaming, snot bubbling, gasping sobs, the whole bit. A moment later a convulsive wave started at her ankles and shot north. When it reached her throat a half eaten green peanut fired out of her face and nailed a picture of my dead mom halfway across the room, knocking her down.
Aw, c'mon. How hot could they be? I looked at the ingredients: peanuts, wasabi powder, starch, sugar...no snake venum, spent uranium, bleach, or any other product that might produce the apoplexy I'd just witnessed. Just wasabi.
So I popped one in my mouth.
And...it wasn't that hot. Ok, there was a bit of a burn. But nothing like what I'd expected after seeing NewWifey(tm)'s ashen, sweat soaked visage. My lips tingled some from the coating of peanut oil spreading capsicum, but otherwise the flavor really wasn't any hotter than the stuff they pile next to the raw fish, or so I thought.
Still, she had a pretty violent reaction to the wasabi in that form, and wouldn't touch another nut afterwards. I had them all to myself.
So last night after dinner I snuggled under my Sponge Bob throw, popped "The Fog of War" into the DVD, and poured myself a measure of Scotch. And emptied the remaining wasabi nuts into a bowl.
I tell ya, you might not believe it but Scotch and wasabi nuts turned out to be a pretty happening combination. I think the sweet/smokey-peat notes of a good Single Malt just happens to tame the sharp, horseradishy bang of wasabi to bring out numerous subtle flavors you might otherwise miss. Either that or I just got so hammered that I couldn't feel a burn if you'd lit my eyebrows on fire. Take your pick.
After what turned out to be an amazingly good movie I grabbed what remained of the bag and staggered to bed. There I downed a few more nuts while doing some light reading before sleep. And then... to sleep.
Where I dreamed of sex.
Ho hum, big deal, right?
Well yeah, but this was a really, really hot sex dream, even by my capitol-offense-in-real-life dreaming standards. I mean, I was really tearing it up with that...er, person? Thing? Whatever it was, we were thrashing about like weasles, rolling and biting and spraying and spitting and generally having the sort of fun that my grade school nuns used to fantasize about while beating the shit out of me. Or, I imagine, a typical night at wench77's place.
Now, you'd think a vivid dream of unfetterd rutting would be pleasurable. And it was...up to a point. Specifically, up until that point where friction became a problem. Unlike my real sex life, neither Asstroglide nor WD-40 figured prominantly. Soon my partner's and my pubes lit and burned to crisp stubbly charcoal. But we plowed on, unheeding of smell or growing discomfort. Finally it became too much. The burning sensation increased to where I thought Li'l Elvis was gonna go up like an Indian funeral pyre, and I struggled to disengage. But whatever the hell I was banging was insatiable, and wouldn't let me pull out! I struggled clear my hips in order to rescue Li'l E from that blistering tunnel, but a flaming tenticle snaked around behind me and rammed about 4 feet into my sphincter, pinning me solid in a hideous embrace! Everything between my bellybutton and my knees felt like they were withering from the heat like a spent wooden matchstick, and I started to lose consciousness.
But of course, it was a dream. So instead, I woke up.
THE BURNING SENSATION WAS JUST AS BAD!
It was horrible! I was soaked in sweat, and writhing in agony like one of those puppies you used to stick in the microwave when you were a kid to see what happens. I sat up and flipped on my nightstand light, tossing off my comforter so I could survey the damage. I was expecting carnage on the scale of a flesh eating virus. But what I saw was...nothing.
No, I mean it. Nothing. As in, no dick!
I shook NewWifey(tm) wildly by the shoulder until she woke up.
"Wha...wassa matta?" she groggily mumbled.
"HONEY! HONEY! LOOK! LITTLE ELVIS IS GONE!! I dreamed it caught fire while I was having sex with an octopus, and when I woke up....IT'S GONE!!"
NewWifey(tm) gave what I've come to recognise as a sigh of resignation and rolled over to take a look. A few seconds later she flopped back onto her pillow facing away from me, pulled the comforter up to her chin and said, "It's not gone. It's just tiny. It's always that tiny when you sleep. Trust me, I've checked. It'll be back in the morning. Now leave me alone and go back to sleep, willya....zzzzzzzzzzz....."
It really DID burn, too. And as I said, it wasn't confined to Li'l Elvis. The bomb bay doors were also twitching from some internal conflagration.
Since sleep was out of the question I decided I'd spend the three hours before I had to leave for work trying to get some relief. I had no idea what was causing the feeling of a white-hot brand being applied to my nether regions, but I knew that a combination of Midol, Advil, Tylenol, half a Percoset and a tumbler of Macallan's Scotch (neat) would take care of it. I lined up the bottles and poured the amber nectar.
Ah! Wait - that was a pretty dangerous combination, I realized at the last second.
I would need to have food in my stomach before taking all those pills.
I didn't really feel like butting my already blazing genitals up against a hot stove, so cold food it was. And the nearest thing at hand: the bowl of wasabi peanuts.
I grabbed a fistfull and shovelled in 5 at a time. I probably downed about 30 all told, and several glasses of water. The burn in my mouth wasn't even noticed next to what Li'l Elvis was still dealing with.
I had to take the pills in two shifts, since I poured out 4 of each. It was quite an impressive pile, even for my cavernous maw. But I got them all down, then sat and nursed the Scotch in my recliner. Despite the pain I was still pretty exhausted. I rubbed my eyes and grabbed an old copy of "Tank Girl" to take my mind off things.
AAAUGH! MY EYES!!
Oh my GOD, my eyes were burning up! I actually forgot my penile pyre for the moment as my eyelids swelled up and rivers of water began shipping down into my lap.
NOW what? Was this some spreading disease I was powerless to stop? In desperation I decided to callg 911 for an ambulence and a tub of ice water. I reached for the phone.
That's when I noticed my hand.
My palm was...bright green!
Wasabi powder from the peanuts had rubbed off and stained me from fingertips to wrist, like when you eat Cheetos and end up with orange mitts!!
Burning remnants of wasabi powder wafted up and singed the hairs in my nose. And then it dawned on me:
I had been rubbing wasabi powder into my butt, dick and eyes for the past 7 hours!
The pills and Scotch DID.
I finally slipped into a comfortable numbness, and stayed that way through the entire 50 mile drive to work. Good think I leave at 2am, since the cars I would have sidled into at 7am as I drifted and weaved my way down Rt.23 were still snug in their garages.
And now here I am at work, waiting for The Killer Blizzard of '05 (the media are hyping this as a Shock-and-Awe destructive world-ender bearing down on us, but really, it's just snow. I mean, it's winter, what do they expect?).
The pain is still pretty bad, but I had the forethought to pack more pills (but not Scotch). I'm keeping a soggy paper towel jammed down my sweatpants, both fore and aft, and that provides some relief (and interesting fantasies) as well. But it's still a lot less comfortable than I'd like it to be.
And now - it's getting too hard to type through the volume of tears my eyes are still producing, so I'm gonna wrap this up.
Besides - it's lunch time. Good thing I brought my leftover wasabi peanuts!
Ciao! Don't forget to wash your hands after eating, kids......