Geriatric Chili-ing

Chili chocolate and a soft voice are a lethal combination. My voice was too quiet when I warned her that the dark chili chocolate I had brought along was pretty darn H O T and so she took some and started chomping down. I watched in awe as she took a bite, swallowed, took another bite... and then my granny spat. Grunted, gasped, leaned forward and SPAT the choccie right out on the table. 86 years old with the table-manners of a 3 year old, I ask you. Some people's children!

But it didn't end there! Granny's eyes started to water and she wouldn't stop gasping. Now, being the spice expert I am not, I knew that gulping water would definitely make it worse. So I advised bread. Granny made a desperate dash for the kitchen, but in her chili-induced tearful-blindness, she couldn't see the bread drawer and fumbled hopelessly. Gallantly, I, the death-by-chocolate annihilator, opened the drawer for her and she shoved some dry bread into her mouth, now also heaving with little, intermittent, scratchy-throat coughs. And I couldn't bloody stop laughing. Not loudly, of course. I giggled like a tipsy teenager at the sight of my nearly immobilized grandmother on spicy chocolate. Luckily, she was too preoccupied with her bread-eating, gasping for air, coughing and throat clearing to really pay attention to my amusement. When the bread wasn't working, I suggested beer.

"Yes, I think so!"

she croaked.
So I fed my Gran some beer and followed her from kitchen to living-room and back again as she paced around, waiting for the symptoms to lesson. Eventually she calmed down and returned to her normal colouring and the streaming tears stopped... ja, well, perhaps I shouldn't consider making my family visits more frequent after all? It only took me 28 hours to almost kill my grandma.