On one nice Sunday evening my dad asked if I wanted wings for dinner. I said “yes” and he asked, “How hot?” I replied back “hot”, not knowing that he was going to pull out the secret habanero sauce he’d been waiting to use and drench the wings that would be sizzling on the pan. A few hours later he pulled out the wings that had been thawing in the refrigerator. He started to cook them until they were ready to be fried with the hot sauce. He asked me, “You sure you want them hot?” I said, “Yes dad.” As they were being coated with the hot sauce on the frying pan, the aroma of the sauce started to make its way toward my innocent nose as I was doing my homework that was due the next day. I looked up at my dad while he was cooking. At the time he was pouring more death onto the wings, the smell was burning my nose hairs. I went back to my homework and I heard my dad say “come eat.” To be continued.