“Combat ninja certified. Flavor so violent it needs a body count.”
This ain’t jerky. This is a tactical nuke in strip form. That hot honey lures you in like a siren with nice thighs — then the Carolina Reaper shows up swinging like it got dishonorably discharged and never got therapy.
One bite and your soul tries to escape through your ears.
This isn’t heat. It’s a hostile takeover of your face.
Your tongue? Gone.
Your dignity? Missing in action.
Your butthole? Filing a Geneva Convention violation.
Eat 99 Zulu at your own risk. Or better yet, don’t.