Death Sauce

I recently had an experience as horrifying and repellent as any I can think of. It was an encounter so odious and repulsive that I scarcely think it worth spreading any knowledge of the thing purely for the selfish goal of practicing my craft of writing. It may be nonetheless a necessary thing in order to educate the unawares that they might avoid it where I had not the forewarning to, and I pray that will be the case. I really don't know how I escaped free of harm from this thing any more than do the millions who allegedly enjoy the thing and even derive some kind of sick physical benefit. If it were up to me, the law would intervene, but since they do not deign to do so, I can only hope that my words are sufficient to sway some who would undoubtedly otherwise perish at first exposure to the deadly vile matter of which I speak.

It's horseradish. I understand that it's a widely popular condiment for such things as sandwiches. "How can that be," you reasonably ask? I regret that I can offer no plausible answer. In my every encounter, it has nearly brought me to my knees, making me wish for some foe to appear with an ultimatum to which I might instantly capitulate. I would do so gladly if only it would make the foul taste into no more than a horrible, possibly imagined memory. I curse myself for forgetting the trauma so well that I step once more into the gooey, acrid trap sometimes emblazoned with the label "Horsey Sauce". It's simply unconscionable that authorities would permit such a noxious substance to be marketed with such cutesy, child-friendly terminology. Would this be allowed with cigarettes and alcohol? I can't imagine so.

They say that sense memory is the most potent humans experience, and in this case that's really a pity. The despicable odor comes unbidden time and time again, bringing with it those painful memories. There I was, hoping to mix things up as I made a sort of open face baloney and cheese sandwich. I had with success employed mustard and before that mayonnaise. There lay before me also a trusted Mexican hot sauce. I had done that before. I honestly and truly believed the horseradish sauce to be something else. Somehow I thought as I liberally applied it to the sandwich that it tasted something like miracle whip. That's something I can understand rising to the status of popularly enjoyed condiment. I think I simply let myself get tripped up by sound logic. It's a common mistake made by the intelligent and reasonable in a world that is so often anything but. It was awful.

I beg of you to not do what I have done. The only good that can come from my ordeal is the knowledge that I will be the last one. Don't eat horseradish sauce. If you haven't, I assure you that it will be disgusting. If you have and think you like it, believe me now when I say that you are wrong about how you feel. It does not at all taste good to you, and the only explanation for why you would claim otherwise is utter mass hysteria. It's either that or that someone is putting you up to this. Are you being blackmailed? Is someone convincing you to make these outrageous statements regarding horseradish sauce with a combination of positive and negative enticements? if they're present as you read this, do your best to conceal the screen, and contact me in whatever secure manner you are able. I am your friend, and will do whatever is in my power to free you from the web of deceit and misery in which you have become entangled.