Dirty Dick's Hot Sauce

At first, I didn't even notice the bell rang. I mean, my ears had already been ringing for 15 minutes, so everything else just sorta blurred together. My eye was swollen almost all the way shut, bringing up a childhood memory of trick-or-treating in a cheap Power Rangers mask. My nose was probably broken, nothing could hurt and bleed so much if it weren't. It was a wonder that the fight was even going to the 8th round. 

But there we were. I walked over to my corner to join my team. My uncle was there, reassuring and coaching. Using his advantage of watching the fight outside the ring. For 7 rounds we had stuck to our strategy. Stay back, quick hits, be defensive. Smile. Make him come to me. Tire him out. Smile. It's a good strategy, but a painful one. Meanwhile, my brother worked on my face, pressing a cold enswell on my eye to reduce the swelling, and applying petroleum jelly to my cheeks in an effort to make my skin more slippery. I felt like a dolphin.

"Ok, it's time. 7 rounds is enough, let's take it to him."

I answered my uncle with a nod and a bloody mouthful of spit into the bottom of the bucket at my side.  This was my favorite part of every fight I've ever been in. Even before I started fighting in rings instead of playgrounds, and getting paid instead of arrested, I loved the moment I decided to switch from getting a beating to giving one. 

I rotated my shoulders, putting some life back into my arms and slammed my gloves together. Once, twice, three times. Each successive hit harder than the last. 

The bell rang once again, and it was time to start the round. I stood up and started towards the center of the ring. The man I was fighting had an uncertain look on his face. Why wouldn't he? For 7 rounds he's been winning. Hitting me over and over, settling into a rhythm that he was sure would bring him a victory. So why was his opponent, the one with the swollen eye and broken nose coming out smiling? Why did he look like he was going to say hi to a childhood friend instead of a person he's been trading blows with for 30 minutes? Something wasn't right here. 

My name is Dicky, and I love boxing. I'm also not very good. But I still win. Because I have a strategy. I come at you slowly. I stand back and don't do much, almost as if I didn't really understand what we were fighting about in the first place. Then, right when you think you're on your way to a victory? That's when I strike. I may start slow, but I end strong. Much like this bottle of Dirty Dick's Hot Sauce. 

Taste: Tropical, sneaky, sweet with a bit o' heat. 
Heat: 21,000 SHU
Label: Surprisingly tame given the name. The pig(?) looks like he enjoys a good time, and I think he has nice teeth. 

Score: I love this sauce. It has a great sweetness with flavor that builds from the first bite, leaving some heat on its way out. AWESOME.  4/5 bloody boxing gloves.