Sins of the Flesch: The Vice of Extramusical Dalliance
Owen Eats Habaneros for Breakfast
What I finally figured out about Owen is that his delusions were not bravado. He truly believes a lot of the crazy shit that he is saying, and is frequently willing to back it up. I mean, he let a full grown adult human being throw a fucking stapler at him to prove he was a ninja, didn’t he? For Christ sake, he only truly backed down when an actual firearm was pointed in his face, and even then he had a half-assed excuse that vanished as soon as Chad walked off.
Needless to say, this behavior got Owen in over his head on more than one occasion, invariably with disastrous results. This next incident sets up about the same as the last one, except this time instead of the “I know a guy” thing he skipped right on to his “I have superpowers” tirade that almost got him shot. One day Michael and I walk into the office to find some of the guys standing around Frank. Frank brought in a small bag full of habanero peppers from his garden and was bloviating about his horticultural skill. He told us that we could each take one, but to really, REALLY careful with them because these were supposed to be some super hot strain, and habaneros are already too fucking hot for human consumption anyway. I myself have been the victim of burning eyes and nether regions from ill-considered previous contact with capsaicin, the latter being more common that you'd think. I had a friend in college who told me after making guacamole at during a party at his apartment that his junk was on fire, and asked me what to do. Not caring one way or the other because A) I was drinking, and B) it wasn't me having the problem, I casually mentioned something about my dad always drinking milk to kill off hot foods.
I didn't notice him leave, but when he came back five minutes later all he sits down and stares at me.
"What?"
"I think it helped."
"What helped?"
"The milk."
"I'm sorry, I must be completely out to lunch. What about milk?"
"The pepper. I took a glass of milk and dunked my penis into..."
I nodded my head, walked off the balcony, shoved four drunk people into a wall in the hallway, nearly hit two other people kicking the front door open, and finishing my beer on the sidewalk by hurling into one of their open windows. I hear a scream and someone shout "fuck!". Two seconds later his roommate sticks his head out and says, "What the fuck man? I'm with a girl up here."
"Try fucking a glass of milk. It won't make your dick burn when you pee."
Then I left. The next day in the lounge at school my friend told me about his roommate getting into a screaming match with some girl who stormed out. "We'll, he is an asshole. He probably did something to piss her off."
But we have bigger assholes to fry. Back to Owen and the habaneros in security guard land. Everyone is standing in the back behind the desk eying the mystically habaneros Frank brought in. In walks Owen. He is particularly greasy today.
Owen: What are you guys looking at?
Me: Frank brought in some Habanero peppers. They are hot as fuck.
Owen: Oh yeah? I eat those things all the time.
We look at Ian like he has a dick growing out of his forehead.
Michael: What, raw?
Owen: Yeah, I love them. I eat them whole.
Me: No you don’t.
Owen: Yes I do.
Me: No. You don’t.
Frank: Listen, you sure you aren’t thinking of bell peppers or something? These things have a Scoville rating of 580,000. They’ll burn through your tongue.
Scoville Units are the measuring standard by which capsaicin content in peppers is measured. A bell pepper has something like 100. A jalapeno is around 5000, and can cause redness on exposed skin from contact. Those hot-ass Thai peppers are in the 50,000 SCU range. The TRADITIONAL habanero is around, 100,000 and the peppers in question are the little red fuckers that are 5 times nastier than that. For a little context, police-grade pepper spray is around 500,000 SCU, which means that eating one of those babies whole is quite a bit worse than sucking on a hit from a pepper spray canister. Baaaaad idea…
Owen: Yeah, habanero peppers. I’m telling you I eat these things raw all the time.
Michael: (with a look of absolute joy on his face) Hey man, then by all means, grab one and eat it for us. I think if you took even a little lick of that thing you’d be crying like a little baby.
Me: Here you go Owen. Eat that thing whole, just like you said. Go ahead and take a huge bite of that bad boy.
Owen reaches into the bag and pulls one out by the stem. Dangling by the stem like a testicle, he eyeballs it a little more suspiciously that his previous bravado would suggest.
Fat Doug: Um, listen man, I think that’s a bad idea. For real, those things are really really hot.
Michael: Forget that shit. Go for it man. Show us how much of a badass you are.
Owen: (chuckling to himself) You really want me to eat it? I’m telling you, I can take it.
Me: I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life. Eat that fucker.
Frank: Owen, seriously, don’t do that…
Michael: Go big man, eat it. You said you can eat it, so fucking eat it, pussy.
Owen Don’t call me a pussy, asshole.
Me: Yeah pussy, eat that pussy little pepper. Show it who the pussy really is.
Owen: Don't call me a pussy!
At this point Chad walks in.
Chad: (Grunting) What the hell are you assholes doing in here? Get to work.
Michael: Owen said he can eat one of Frank's habanero peppers. I told him he's too much of a pussy to eat it raw.
Chad: ...
Michael: Sooooooooooooooo....
Chad: Do it.
At this moment, we all slowly turn away from Chad and over to Owen and the habanero. I swear to god a tumbleweed blew by. Between Frank, Michael, and Owen it was like the Mexican standoff at the end of The Good, The Bad, and the Ugly. My eyes kept panning from one face to the next as Owen's hand holding the pepper started twitching.
Owen: Fine. Here I go.
Frank: Owen, listen to me. I believe you can eat that pepper. I really believe you can do it. Now DON’T EAT IT, and PUT IT BACK IN THE BAG.
Too late. I swear to god, Owen took that fucking thing, dropped it into his mouth, and starts chewing away. There was another, much more interesting moment of silence, and to his credit, of all the looks on our faces, Michael’s was the most surprised.
Then it happened. Owen’s happily masticating jaw froze. His pupils dilated like pennies and he turned red, orange, and finally a purpe-lish color, he ran across the room, grabbed the trash can, and began bazooka barfing for the next five minutes. Michael crumpled to the floor, and was laughing so hard he couldn’t even laugh. He was curled into a little spasming ball, and making little wheezing sounds like Stephen Hawking falling out of his wheelchair while at the same time having a severe asthma attack. Fat Doug was pounding Owen on the back so hard he probably broke a few ribs, screaming incoherencies about the Heimlich maneuver to make sure he was still breathing, and Frank was desperately rummaging through the first aid cabinet hoping to find some Atropine to inject into Owen’s heart so he wouldn’t get fired for killing a co-worker. Chad simply walked off. I don’t quite remember what I was doing, but if I had to guess it was probably something along the lines of shoving my tie into my nostrils to blunt the smell of vomit, singed flesh, and possibly urine soaking into the front of Michael's pants.
Later that night as I was closing up, Frank caught up with me in the hall.
Frank: Hey. Owen's been in that bathroom for 40 minutes. Do you think he's OK?
Me: "OK?" Well now let me see. You know I don't have any idea what that means.
Frank: Well, it means he's ready to eat something other than yogurt and Slim Fast...
Me: I know what you think it means, Frank. To me it's just a made up word. An HR representative's word, so old fellas like yourself can wear a suit and a tie and have a job. What do you really want to know? Is he sorry for what he did?
Frank: Well is he?
Me: There's not a second goes by he doesn't feel regret. Not because he's in the bathroom on level two taking a painful, burning shit or because you think he should. He'll look back on the way he was then: a greasy, stupid idiot who ate that terrible pepper. He'll want to talk to him. He'll want to try to talk some sense into him. Tell him the way things are. But he can't. His stomach's long gone and that bloody, smoking pile of large intestines sitting in a public toilet bowl is all that's left. He's got to live with that. OK? It's just a bullshit word. So you go on and finish closing up Frank, and stop wasting my time. 'Cause to tell you the truth, I don't give a shit.
Frank: Kid?
Me: Yeah?
Frank: Shut the fuck up.
Frank grumbled down the hallway, and Michael comes up. Apparently he caught the tale end of that little exchange.
Michael: Dude, I don't think he's seen Shawshank.
Me: He didn't even crack a smile. I thought everyone knew that scene.
Michael: Do you know how fucking old these guys are? They probably still entertain guests with slide shows.
Me: Oh shit.
Michael: That is awesome. I bet he fucking hates you now.
Me: I'll say something to him tomorrow.
Michael: I would not come in tomorrow. Or the next day, or any day for at least a month.
Me: Fuck. Do you know anyone with mono who needs CPR?
Michael: Yeah. You when you get mono and then come back to work. You'd better shave your balls because they're going to stitch your cock socket up like a worn out army sock.
Me: ...
Michael: Idiot.
OTHER PIECES IN THE SERIES
Literature, Humor: Sins of the Flesch: The Vice of Extramusical Dalliance—Prologue
Literature, Humor: Sins of the Flesch: The Vice of Extramusical Dalliance—The Security Guard Years pt 1: Rick
Literature, Humor: Sins of the Flesch: The Vice of Extramusical Dalliance—The Security Guard Years pt 2: Owen
Literature, Humor: Sins of the Flesch: The Vice of Extramusical Dalliance—The Security Guard Years pt. 3: Owen Eats Habaneros for Breakfast
Literature, Humor: Sins of the Flesch: The Vice of Extramusical Dalliance—The Security Guard Years pt. 4: Rick Explains how to Kill People