TIFU by pairing Ghost Pepper Jerky with psyllium husk fiber supplements

So there I was, standing in Buc-ee’s snack aisle—America’s Mecca of beef, beavers, and bad decisions—when my lizard brain whispered, “Hey champ, ghost pepper jerky can’t be that spicy.”

Fast-forward to 10 p.m. I’m annihilating said jerky when I start getting this uneasy warm feeling in my stomach. Cue the Metamucil. But why stick to the recommended single scoop when you can double-fist fiber like an overachieving geriatric? I felt like I needed triple the dose to calm my poor stomach.

Midnight strikes. My stomach starts sounding like it's microwaving quarters, at the same time my intestines file a hostile work environment complaint. I race to the toilet because if I had waited even a second longer I would have turned my sheets into a cursed Jackson Pollock painting. Friends, God’s cruelest joke isn’t mosquitoes, stubbed toes, or Nickelback, it’s the brilliant idea to install capsaicin receptors in the human anus. It felt like Satan himself was pressure-washing my colon with boiling mud, every blast echoing like a shotgun through a tunnel made of hamburger meat. That’s the scene. I’m gripping the towel rack like a Titanic survivor, sweating out every life choice since 1998, and praying the smoke alarm doesn’t misinterpret the situation.

Somewhere between my third round of Ring of Fire karaoke and bargaining with the universe, I accepted my fate. After all was said and done it felt like my anus got fucked by a fist covered in sand paper.

TL;DR—Ate an entire bag of Buc-ee’s ghost pepper jerky, washed it down with three times the recommended dose metamucil. Learned that capsaicin receptors in the exit hatch are a thing.