By: Isabella Urbani, Staff Writer
Have you had the miserable experience of dealing with someone who can’t take a hint? Can’t take no for an answer? And somehow thinks sweet chilli chips (I’m talking about the Doritos version) are spicy. Two out of three? Good enough. Then you’ll know how I feel as I try to sneak out, I’m not kidding, to grab a bite without my spice tolerance getting in the way. This is my story:
“And where do you think you’re going, all dolled up, Isabella?” Spice asks.
Shit. I knew I should have kept the door closed.
“Oh hey, Spice.” Fuck it. Just rip the band-aid off. “Actually, I’m going to try the new restaurant that opened a few minutes away with—”
“Perfect! Just give me a minute to put on a jacket, and we’ll—”
“Um, Spice. It’s a Thai restaurant.” You’ve got to be kidding me. Why is she looking at me confused? “And um . . . You aren’t really the best with ahem spicy foods.”
“Oh . . . okay.”
That’s it? She’s actually fine with that? “Thanks for understanding because I don’t want things to become awk—”
“I just won’t eat any spicy food.”
Well, there’s only one thing for me to do now: warn my friend Kiana about the extra guest.
The El Daddyablos (yes, that’s the name of our chat)
IceSpice2.0 (yes, that’s me): SOS: Spice is coming tonight. I’m sorry! I thought she would understand, but apparently not. She says she isn’t going to eat any spicy food, though.
KiaYUH Pepper (yes, that’s Kiana): Are u JOE-KING? U said you had everything sorted out. Just tell her we cancelled and sneak out later.
IceSpice2.0: I can’t. We just arrived. Just play nice. She promised not to eat anything spicy.
So, we’re walking into the Thai restaurant and—
“Hey, hey! Who’s ready to eat a crap–ton of spicy food?” Spice exclaims. “Ha ha, just kiddingggg! Party pooper over here says I can’t eat anything spicy.”
Whew.
Kiana also seems relieved as she says, “It’s probably for the best, Spice. You know what happened last time.”
Spice wasn’t having any of it. “Oh pah-lease Kiana, don’t act as if your spice tolerance was any better.”
“Funny you say that since you weren’t invited!” Kiana retorts.
That’s right folks, we couldn’t even keep the peace long enough to get appetizers. Spice is devastated.
“What is she talking about, Isabella?”
“I think we should really talk about this privately and not—”
“No. Let’s do this here. Was I or was I not invited?”
Maybe if I just excuse myself to the bathroom . . .
“Take a hint, Spice! She obviously didn’t invite you because you can’t handle your spice!”
Damn it, Kiana is one feisty pepper . . .
“YOU TAKE THAT BACK! I can, too, hold my spice, right, Isabella?” The silence is loud. “Fine. If I couldn’t handle my spice, would I do this?”
Oh shit, Spice just used the plant as a spit bucket. I grab my bestie, my spice tolerance, and what’s left of my dignity, and we blow this popsicle stand. Soon enough, I’m home alone with Spice.
“I can’t believe we got banned from another restaurant!”
“In MY defence, Kiana started it. I wouldn’t have eaten anything unless they said something,” Spice whines.
“You had one bite of a Hot Cheeto. Why do you always keep HOT Cheetos on you if they’re too spicy, anyway?”
“DUH, ‘cause they’re good. Just because I can’t handle spice, you think I don’t deserve flavour? Here, I just opened a new bag. Try one!”
“That doesn’t make any sens— Wait, what did you say?”
In case you were wondering, my new monstera was not safe.
