Bests & Worsts Reviews from Amazon

I've been experimenting with ways to give my guacamole an extra kick. After receiving this industrial solvent in the mail, I called some buddies over for burritos, beer and baseball. Cut to fifteen minutes later: four men are sitting around, watching baseball and drinking beer as it dawns on them that there is an angry dragon writhing about in each of their stomachs. The dragons breathe white hot fire that scorches their mouths and ravages their tongues. Ever men, they remain erect and try to soothe the dragon's temper with gifts of alcohol. Quickly, though, the supply dwindles and furtive glances dart around the room. Who will break first? As sweat drips down their foreheads and stings their eyes, they try to think about baseball...think about baseball...think about baseball...and then one makes a break for it! In an instant there is a stampede for the kitchen. They fling open the refrigerator and, snorting like wild bulls, rip open another case and chug like Dionysus reborn--but to no avail. This alcohol is fueling the fire and not dousing it. With choked and gasping breath one whispers "milk". Upending the kitchen they can find none of the sweet elixir. With tears streaming down their faces they tear outside, but in the rush of flailing limbs they fall into a heap on the pavement. "Oh no" they say, realizing the horrible truth. In their haste to quench this insatiable heat they made a fatal mistake: they are way too drunk to drive. Rising from the ground, they take off on foot for the nearest corner store. Soon, none can bear to breathe through their mouths; the dragon's flames lick at their lips unbearably. As they breathe heavily through their noses, their sinuses are soon aflame from the intense heat and begin their own form of self defense. What a spectacle! Four grown men with red faces, streaming eyes and snot flying into the wind as they gasp and wheeze down the road, driven by the fires of hell itself. Soon, the fat one falls, hitting the ground hard but stretching his hands out for help. Through the sneezing and wheezing no words can escape his ruined lips. Onward the three friends push with nary a backward glance. "We will remember you fondly, fat one" they say to themselves, hearts roasted free of compassion. They burst into the corner store as one drunken, moaning entity of pure thirst and claw their way to the milk. With wild abandon, they forego such modern niceties as payment and immediately pour gallons of soothing white mana into their gaping, flaming maws. They sink to the floor in the silent thanks of men spared the gallows. One thought lingers in their minds: "that guac sure was tasty."