Habanero Means Hot

"Habaneros?" I scoffed. "I don't think that farmer down at the market knew what he was talking about - these are jalapeños."
     I washed the jalapeño, halved it, and removed the seeds and white spines. I sliced it for my taco salad. I picked up a small piece - maybe, all together, the volume of a pea - popped it into my mouth, and began chewing.
     Suddenly Johnny Cash was singing "Ring of Fire."
     I spit the itty-bitty piece of pepper into the trash can and begged my wife to get me a slice of bread. It helped. Some.
     My nose began to run violently. I asked for a tissue. I blew my nose and seconds later regretted the action. Apparently, I had blown some of the oils into my nose. My nose hairs were singed and withered as my nose caught fire. It felt red and swollen for thirty minutes. I was tempted to drink milk and try to squirt it out my nose. Or stuff bread into my nostrils. In the end, I simply offered up my suffering to God, who was laughing at me.
     The pepper was not a Habanero. I'm pretty sure of it. But it was also no jalapeño. It may have been a serrano. I don't know for sure. But, baby, it was hot.