Horribile Dictu!

Yes.  Classically, Horrible to Tell.

My favorite salsa comes from Tejas Barbacoa, a little Mexican restaurant in Helotes, that was once a hole in the wall and has recently become a decent little Mexican breakfast dive.  Every time I cook breakfast tacos, which is pretty often, I think to myself, "Man, this would be perfect if I had the salsa from Tejas!"  So after years of thinking that, I finally realized I should just go buy some.

And so I did.

However, I accidentally forgot it in my parents' fridge before I could get it home.  Yes, that in itself is horrible to tell.  So on Sunday, when CheyAnn, Solana, and I were over there for dinner, I was very excited when I opened the fridge, "Oh Hey!  My salsa!"  I reached for it eagerly, too eagerly.  As I grasped it by the loose lid, the styrofoam cup squished down and fell straight out of my hand.  The entire cup smacked a shelf at the bottom of the fridge, and the whole thing exploded everywhere like a juicy green hand-grenade.

All over me.

My Dad, who had seen the entire fiasco, busted up uncontrollably.  I was covered in bright green salsa.  My clothes were ruined.  It was in my hair.  All over my arms.  In my face.  Dripping from the ceiling.  Dripping from my glasses.

I was stunned, and just sat there, shocked.  I felt like a kid who gets a puppy for Christmas, and then the puppy explodes.  But, it was also incredibly funny.  And so I just stood there half-laughing, half-stunned, while the green goo smeared down my glasses, dripping everywhere.

CheyAnn ran for the camera, and I was a good sport.

Then came the burn.

Suddenly, as spicy things do when they explode all over you, the salsa started to burn my face.  "Oh no! It's burning!"

By the time I made it to the sink, my eyes were on fire and swollen shut.  I frantically splashed water everywhere in vain, while everyone laughed.  It kept getting worse, and worse, and I started to moan.  Any time I tried to open my eyes even slightly, the burn got worse.  My face was on fire.  I sponged milk all over my face and eyes.  I splashed, I rinsed, I stuck my head under the faucet and let the water run through my eyes for like 10 minutes, moaning while CheyAnn took VIDEO.  It was a weird, exquisite pain, compounded by the humor and irony of the situation.

As we know, time heals all spicy wounds, and slowly, I was able to open my eyes just a crack.  Then a little more.  My face was red and blotchy from where the salsa had burned.  My eyes were puffy and gross.  It was a vivid, unforgettable experience.

Now I need to buy more salsa.