My first bite was filled with unimaginable flavor. I tore the chicken off the bone from left to right, savoring every bite. Savoring every bite was a bad idea. Instead of tasting the chicken, the hot sauce took over. I could hear the evil laugh of the hot sauce as it engulfed my tongue and burned my taste buds. I tried to make it stop by taking gulps of water, and then I thought to myself “I’m only a few wings down and I’m on fire!”
A glass and a half of water later my dad asked, “How are they?” I replied “Good.” After 15 wings down I was finally finished. Panting like a dog after an exciting day of catch, I heard the peanut butter and saltine crackers calling my name from the pantry. After my mouth had time to recover, my dad said, “There are three more wings up here that I don’t want; better eat them.”