The Hot Sauce Waiver



A hot sauce store in Tarpon Springs, Florida


"Can I help you, Sir?"

"Yes. I'm trying to find the hottest hot sauce you have."

"The hottest? Are you sure? We have a selection of hot ones over here, but we keep the hottest ones under lock and key. If you want to taste one of those, you'll have to sign a waiver."

"I want the hottest. We're going to my aunt Trudy's for dinner and she's about the worst cook in the world."

The storekeeper laughs.

"No, seriously. The worst. Her food tastes so bad that it brings tears to your eyes. Anyone with any kind of gag reflex has trouble swallowing her food. And this time, she's prepared an entire feast to celebrate her 50th anniversary with my uncle Don."

The storekeeper looks puzzled. "So why do you want hot sauce?"

"Not just any hot sauce. The hottest you have. I want to burn my tongue so bad that my taste buds are singed. I don't want to be able to taste Aunt Trudy's food at all. Not at ALL. I don't even want to know it's on my tongue. Got it?"

The shopkeeper nods. "Got it. You need the Devil's Apocalypse. I'll get the waiver."