Scoville Scale Does NOT Belong With Vodka

The Scoville scale. A measurement of the amount of “hot” a pepper is. The higher the number, the hotter the pepper. To put it in generic perspective, the Jalapeno is a mere 5,000 scovilles. A Habanero is 100,000 scovilles, and the Ghost Pepper, the hottest pepper known to date is a whopping 850,000 to 1 million scoville units. Capsaicin is what gives peppers their “heat” and pure capsaicin tops the Scoville scales at an amazing 16 million scovilles. Since we are on a science lesson, yes there are things hotter than pure capsaicin. One of which is a sap from a euphorbia plant called Resiniferatoxin, which hits the scales at 1000 times hotter than pure capsaicin. On the scale this is represented as 16 billion units. That will probably melt your face off, through your ass.

This brings me to vodka. Nice in a Bloody Mary, okay as a shooter when you’re already drunk, but to me, is a drink I don’t really care for. But I am a sipper, I like scotch and cask whiskey. You don’t sip vodka. But I am not avoid to shooting and getting completely fucked up. And you know, I love me some spice. I add cayenne to Ramen noodles and ice cream for God’s sake. So when my buddy called me up and invited me over to try a new Vodka he bought called Naga Chilli Vodka, I was game. The vodka is rated at 100,000 Scovilles. Liquid Habanero. I was a little worried.

He shouldn’t have come! I went anyway. The promise of awesome-tastic BBQ and Shiner Bock beers was enough to lure me in, the offering of Absinthe when I walked in the door was enough to make me stay. And after the food and drinks, the bottle of Naga Chilli Vodka came out and we all stood around looking at it. Do we smell it? Do we do a finger dip taste test? Hell no! We had worked up enough courage to drink the damned stuff, no sense in trying to talk ourselves out of it now! Five men stood in the kitchen as five glasses were poured, three women gathered to watch while two toddlers ran around playing between our legs. The two babies, abandoned in the living room, were crying due to lack of attention. Sorry pups, this night is about heat.

As the glasses filled with the ounces of unknown molten-ness that would soon destroy out innards, we all fell really silent. And then we each grabbed a glass. We looked around at each other, toasted, clinked and daringly drank. Well, four of us did. One chickened out at the last minute. I can’t honestly say I blame him, but I still called him a pussy. Repeatedly.

The moment the Hell Vodka hit my mouth I knew it was over. All I could do now was beau up and take it like a man. I thought I did pretty well. I felt my mouth explode into a volcanic cinder, my lips went numb and my throat begged for mercy. I swallowed anyway. Quickly.

I felt every instance of the liquid blaze as it crept slowly down my esophagus. Wishing it would just splash down and be over with, this mouth party had just begun. My mouth was oddly on fire and completely numb at the same time. My throat was seemingly closing in on itself, either to force the heat out, or keep it from returning from whence it came. When the vodka infused torment finally did splash down into my belly a miniature eruption occurred that only reinforced the fact that this was a bad choice. Then I heard my friend offering beers. I stumbled blindly towards his voice, holding my hand out. I felt the cold glass bottle hit my palm and I swigged half of the bottle down in one glorious gulp. It didn’t help. I knew I was screwed. My face was flush, my eyes were blind with tears and I couldn’t stop laughing. It was a fabulous horror.

Three of us went outside, one to dry heave in the grass and me and my friend to lean on the fence and try to cool off. We didn’t. I was watching the back of my friends head as he muttered that he, too, was about to feed the bushes, when he turned to the side and let go of his internal contents. Feeling otherwise fine in that area I lifted my pointing finger and began to mutter some pun to make fun of his innocuous stomach-let-go when all of a sudden, my throat and mouth were full of vomit as well. I turned to the side and let it out.

Normally, I wouldn’t write about such happenings. While vomit is and can be funny, it isn’t really an image I like to portray on a daily basis. However, I feel it is absolutely necessary at this point. You see, this wasn’t a standard drunken throw-up. It wasn’t a standard vomit by any account. No, I mention it here because it had to have been from the Vodka. This vomit was different. There was no warning. No stomach upheaval, no diaphragm protesting in the bowels of uncertainty. It was a ninja attack of belly content. It sneak attacked my mouth like it wasn’t even there until it was too late and then it was over like it never happened. It was the strangest thing I ever experienced. No churning or bubbling, no gas, no pain, no nothing.. just.. there it was. And then it was done.
The whole process took about 15 minutes, from pour to floor. And then, it was done. We spent the next 3 hours joking about it and laughing at the one that didn’t try it, wishing secretly, that we were that one. We still watch the video today and laugh at our faces, and secretly wish it had all gone a little different. All in all it was an experience. Would I do it again?

In a heart beat.

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