That thing in my mouth is called a Hellbone.

It is a specialty of a favorite restaurant of mine consisting of a perfectly tender, falling-off-the-bone slow-barbecued pork rib – the “bone” – slathered in what they call Inner Beauty Hot Sauce (a painfully spicy sauce made from habanero peppers – the “hell” part ).

Eating one of these is a sublime pain-pleasure experience; you sweat and pant, but you love it.

As I was just finishing, our waiter came over and said, “So how was everything, ladies?”

I looked up at him, my face covered in sauce, my lips burning, my brow glistening with perspiration, flecks of cornbread in my hair, and reached for a napkin. “It was wonderful,” I said, “but I don’t look like much of a lady at the moment.”

(Uh-oh, did I really say that out loud in public?!)

“That’s why they call it ‘Inner Beauty’ hot sauce,” he joked without missing a beat, thankfully not taking a swing at the fat one I served up right down the middle of the plate.

I smiled behind my napkin…

Then, I cleaned myself up, took a long drink of cold water, and re-applied lipstick.