The Reaper

Two weeks ago, Ðán, my second son, wanted to try Dave’s Hot Chicken. He ordered extra-hot chicken tenders. I ordered a reaper chicken sandwich to see how hot it was. The cashier made me sign the weaver. As soon as I paid for our food, he told the staff that someone ordered a reaper. The entire staff in the kitchen chanted, danced, and cheered. I knew I was in trouble.

When the food came out, I took a bite of the sandwich. The heat quietly took over my body. I drank water and ate fries and pickles. Sweat started to pour from my head. The flare lasted about 5 minutes. I could have taken another bite, but I didn’t want to risk internal bleeding.

Ðán wanted to try. I advised him not to, but he picked up my sandwich and took a small bite. He said, “Not bad.” Then the reaper kicked in. He asked me to get him lots of water, which I complied. I was glad he made it through.

It was definitely an experience. The reaper was no joke!