Deviled Egg
Well, here we are at the bitter end. Or, more appropriately, the gag-filled end. I didn’t technically choke this one down — it would have taken a miracle for me to have swallowed this smelly, goopy mess. And I don’t think they would have named the snack after Beelzebub if it had been capable of miracles. To make matters worse, now my kitchen smells like holy hell. (I had to whip up the instruments of my own torture, soldiering through the fumes and slime and mushy egg entrails.) But I did it. I stood up to my bogeyest bogeyman. So what if he kicked my butt? (For a peek at the agony of my defeat, there’ll be a video on Picky Niki’s Facebook page, courtesy of my impish daughter.)
