A few days ago I was talking to The Brains at work, a couple of cool PhD’s in Things That Involve Math. One is a good friend and the other happens to be the VP at my company.
Suddenly Prime Number says to Hot Pants (the VP’s name as a result of this very story) “Hey, show Lemur the pic of your neighbor’s kid!”
Hot Pants whips out his smartphone and shows me where the kid had all manner of burns around his mouth and head. He ate a Bhut Jolokia pepper at school, got fried, and then rubbed it all around his face and head, unaware that the stuff burns skin, too. Then the kid went home for the afternoon.
I told Hot Pants that the ghost pepper is pretty damned hot and not to be screwed around with. Jokingly I said that I had some and I would bring them in if he wanted. He said absolutely.
For rough reference… Habanero is a quarter million Scoville. Red Savina is half a mil. Jolokia is a cool one mil. Roughly.
Yesterday I brought them in and taped them to my doorframe with a post-it note that said “Hot Pants… This is your destiny. – LK”
Around lunchtime he came in and there was a gathering of five of us to watch, with Rectified Diode being the most excited. He was really looking forward to watching it.
HP took a bite and I started describing to him what he was about to experience as he munched.
“Ok, it should start out with a nice smoky flavor.”
“Yeah, it is smoky… Nice.”
“Ok, now it should start to build slowly in heat but there are some other nice flavors there.”
“Yeah.”
“Ok, now it should pick up speed…”
“Yup.”
“Ok, now it is going to feel like you drank battery acid.”
(Dawning expression) “Yeah, that describes it pretty well.”
He gave a pained expression and was flushing red.
“Ok, now it will continue to get worse for the next 30 minutes. A lot worse.”
Then I took a picture of him holding up the bag, in pain.
He deliberately made a point of taking additional bites. See, when I ate one, I ate all I was going to eat in one go. He had rabid wolves eating him and he was egging them on.
So I sent out an email to a large number of people to give credit where it was due, with pics.
Subject: Mr. Vice President, Sir.
The man is tough. Continued to finish off the pepper even as it was attacking him. He dominated that pepper. Had I eaten the one I did in stages I doubt I could have kept chomping on it.
You have my respect, Hot Pants.
We should probably get some “fire eaters” shirts.
Note: I do not give out compliments lightly, so this was a highly unusual email for me to be sending.
Later, Prime Number, HP, and I met with a customer. Old Man (our president) attended.
When it was over, Old Man looked directly at me and said “Stop trying to kill my employees.”
Apparently Hot Pants had spent an hour curled up on the floor of the locked men’s room in agony.
He still has my respect. I think I even felt a bit of guilt but it passed quickly and I at first mistook it for gas.
Lemur King's Folly 
I’ve heard quite a bit about the agony Bhut Jolokia will inflict on its victims. Also heard it’s been replaced as the hottest pepper in the world. Can’t remember the name of the new king, but I do seem to recall it comes from somewhere in South America.
Scorpion chili is the name. Said to clock in at 1.2 mil SU.
No desire on my part to try it.
is there a “ring of fire” ending to this story?
Wow, good question. I did not talk to him today so I do not know. I will find out.
brings new meaning to the term “Hot Pants” 😉
Ah! A little “fart of regret”? There’s so much I can do with that phrase.
You did warn Hot Pants that he can no longer sire (normal) children, didn’t you? And to not pee near inflammable liquids for at least a week?
Hello, taobmaetS ooGcM!
He has normal children already but swearing off unprotected sex for a week or so might not be a bad idea for him.
Please, say as many things with that phrase as you can…
Mmmmm, don’t pee near inflammable liquids? The bhut jolokia is a nasty p.o.s., but I don’t think urine produced from it would set inflammables (i.e. water) on fire. The FLAMMABLE stuff (i.e. alcohol, gasoline, acetone, petroleum ether), however, look out!
Actually “inflammable” and “flammable” mean basically the same thing, CW. It helps to read it as “inflame….able”.
BTW: this apparent complete contradiction in language has irritated the crap out of me since I was but a little tyke – barely able to pee my own pants.
Language (written and spoken) basically sucks. But then, if you look at who’s been “in charge of it” and made up the rules (e.g. clergy & ancient reclusive English lit. scholars who never got laid) for centuries, the reason becomes clear. 🙂 Don’t get me started on language! 🙂
” Farting with regret at the de-funding of O’BuggerCare, O’Bugger The Great And Powerful headed out for another round of golf.”
“It was with no small sense of faux-melancholy (and a miniscule fart of regret) that congressional fat-cats in both Houses adjourned Congress after a session totally bereft of achievement or progress.”
“After the mugging by the young black man, and as she lay dying, the elderly white woman farted with regret at her choice of voting “Yes we can!” in 2008.”
The very features of the English language that you loathe are the ones that I feel make it such an expressive language capable of much nuance. Other languages might be oil paintings or nicely done clay sculpture but English ranges from the basics of junkyard art up to gardens filled with silk flowers.
Perhaps I exaggerate a bit but it lends itself so well to wordsmithing I am willing to overlook flammable and inflammable.
Oh, I agree that the language can be nuanced and beautiful (i.e. evoking emotional responses)! It’s the stunning potential for being objectively misused, misunderstood, and abused that I loathe.
I – perhaps unfairly – criticize the tool, which I still feel is pathetically crude.
Maybe I should look more closely at the “carpenter” using it – the human given to (intentional) prevarication, disingenuity, and obfuscation.
Naaa….why tilt my head at windmills? 🙂
Some people have to learn the hard way 😉
Well, I did, too.
You were included in that assessment 😀
Tssssssss!
Go fix me a turkey pot pie.