Hardy's Hot Wings

      I had scarcely been out a month on my mission in Bend, Oregon when without much choice I was forced to taste some of the hottest, scorching, wings imaginable. Why such inhumane wings were created and why anyone within their right senses (other than falling to peer pressure) would attempt such a feat, is still unclear to me. The objective was simple, 15 wings in 15 minutes but, the execution was unthinkable.
     Even before the wings left the kitchen the smell alone struck my nostrils painfully causing my eyes to water. I sat across from one of my unfortunate friends who innocently accepted the challenge only to have increasing remorse as the wings approached our table. The waiter sat our baskets before us and I knew it was nothing more than a death sentence. A twisted smile came across the waiters face as the stop watch in  his hand clicked before I had my last words.
     Immediately, both of us dived into our baskets taking no thought of retreat but, keeping the motivation that every wing eaten is one less torment to finish. The trick was to eat fast with no thought about the repercussions.
    "How is it" I barely managed to choke out to my red faced miserable friend who had sauce smeared across his mouth.
    "Just like fast and testimony meeting" he joked but, the tears that ran down his eyes lacked humor.

     It was quick but, not painless, as I finished the last wing just short of beating my friend. Both of us gasping for air and emptying the water cups that lined the table on our behalf. I thought to myself, "if I can get through that than two years will be a piece of cake".