There I was -- in my kitchen perfecting my latest version of Chipotle Chili Surprise, when I heard a very loud CRASH in my garage. At first I just played it off as a box falling by accident or another innocent event. But, this was anything but innocent. From the time I opened the door that led into my garage my life would be changed forever. What stood before me was something sinister -- some may even say evil. His eyes were full of rage. His stench was foul. Rope hung from his shoulder and a butcher knife in his right hand. At this point I was quite startled. I proclaimed, “WHAT THE FAWK!” and tried my best to disengage the knife from the grip of this monster. But, he was prepared. His reflexes were surprisingly quick and, taking into account I was unarmed, he subdued me with ease. After tying me up and sitting me at my dining room table he noticed my work on the stove. The aroma of my Chipotle Chili Surprise was amazing. The old fawker walked slowly over to my simmering pot of chili and took a small taste. He stood there silently for 10 seconds or so as he allowed the all the flavors to encapsulate his taste buds. He then turned slowly until he was facing me once again. I could see he was even more angry than he was before -- but this time I could sense jealousy wrapped in with all his rage. My chili recipe was good, very good in fact, and he knew it. He knew he could never prepare a chili with such complex and harmonizing flavors. This is when I knew I was fawked.
He placed a blindfold over my eyes and started to lead me out to his vehicle. As we walked he started cursing at me, but one phrase stood out and I immediately knew who this monstrosity was. He exclaimed, “HOW DARE YOU TAKE OVER MY THREAD -- WHAT RIGHT DID YOU HAVE?” “THOSE DUMB FAWKS REALLY THOUGHT I KNEW CHIT ABOUT FOOD, THEN YOU CAME IN AND RUINED IT -- YOU RUINED EVERYTHING!!” He placed me in the trunk of his 1982 Chevy Cavalier and off we went. I was in that trunk for what seemed like an eternity. When we stopped I could tell the air was warmer and I could see the outline of palm trees through the corner of my blindfold. We were in Florida. He led me into a building and into a very cold room. I assumed it was a walk-in cooler. From this point he opened another door and let me through a small opening into another room. My guess is that it was a hidden room for his victims. He silently tied me to a chair and left me there in darkness for a few more hours. Day after day he would bring me samples of different chili recipes and demand me to provide him with recommendations to make it better. I refused each time. Every spoonful he forced me to try was worse. I would never let this fawker break me. My chili secrets would die with me -- if it came to that. But, after weeks of enduring his terror, I was able to loosen one of the knots on the rope just enough to slip my hand through. I was free. Luckily, he was too dumb to put locks on the doors, so my escape was fairly easy. As I made my way through the cooler and out to the front of the building I saw an office. There he was -- sleeping on the couch inside this room. I quietly walked over to get a better look. The walls were covered with posters of golden retrievers and nood men. Also, his computer was still on and Volnation was gleaming on the monitor. After I placed his hand into a bowl of warm water I got the hell out of there and made my way back to Tennessee.
FAWK YOU,
@Behr .
