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TenthSpeedWriter

[Open] Ol' Anaheim Fire - Spicy Samples

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Tinny beamed with excitement at the sight of his little stand finally... well, standing. Sure, it was a ramshackle little thing, but the spicy smorgasbord on top more than made up for it; there were peppers fresh and dried, sauces and oils of every sort, and even a few pleasantly (or painfully) piquant baked goods out on display. The bounty of his fall harvest and all the family know-how he could muster had gone into this little endeavor, it was finally time to put his skill as a salesman to the test.

With all the grit and grin of an old cart seller, he drew out out his beloved banjo and leaned on the counter to strike himself a fanfare.

Come one an' all, y'all gather round,

Anaheim Peppers are back in town!

Big ripe bells for your salad mix,

habaneros for your firey fix!

Oils to soothe your muscles sore,

clean your commodes and much, much more!

Special t'day, our salsa treats,

Peppers fresh and tomatoes sweet,

Out for free for y'all to try,

so grab a sample! Stop on by!

True to his word, Tinny had ladled out paper cups of his very best salsas, each set beside a basket of flatbread and few price-tagged jars of the very same. There were some full of a rich red paste, chunky with onions and tomatoes; others were filled with a fine green sauce speckled with diced jalapenos and spices; and then there were a few filled with a brilliant orange salsa that seemed as though it would like nothing more than to set fire to its containers.

“Come on, come on, now! Anypony here think they got the pallet for a taste of the Ol' Anaheim Fire?!”

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Grim was walking along, thinking of ways to scare foals and grownups alike when he heard a banjo being played off to his right. Curious, he walked over to the sound and beheld a... peculiar sight. It was a barely standing stand of various spicy foods. Focusing completely on the foods, Grim walked over and began looking over the selection available. "These look good... Please tell me you have some milk handy, good sir. I have a feeling I'm going to need some before the night's over."

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"Oh, yes indeed, friend," he laughed, "I ain't quite cruel."

Tinny leaned down to stow his banjo down beneath the stand, and re-surfaced with a fairly wide pail of milk -- about the right size to dunk one's head in, if need be. There also appeared to be a dried cayenne pepper in his mouth, produced from some secret stash or another.

"Now, you got 'cha hot sauces, fresh peppers, spice breads... whatever y' like. Or would'ja be interested in tryin' a bite of this fine salsa?"

He pushed forward a cup of the chunky red salsa. "We got hot salsa, real hot salsa, shut-'cho-mouth-an'-slap-ya-grandma hot salsa... an' iffin' those don't set'cha mouth on fire, I've gone an' brewed up batch of a secret ol' family recipe. Stuff may just be lethal; ain't tried it yet myself. Ain't nopony really made none since my gran'pa's day, come'a think of it. Gotta be good.

Anyhow. Wha'cha care for, friend?"

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