I could run in so many directions with this word. But given the mass of different feelings fighting for control right now, I think my safest bet would be to sit this one out. I don’t want to be sad. Don’t want the slip and slide down into the red zone. Some people help me forget, others make remembering far too easy.
beautiful red long slieves that can be hot as a fire itself. It contains numerous healthy things such as hornyness.
Jovana
There were two of them. Both were “sistahs” and both had that undefinable accent. They were like a mix of Portuguese, Latin, and French that seemed to know so much about fashion yet was only able to put it in yelling terms. I loved them.
It was hot. The sun was bright, shining down on the girl who was slowly dragging herself along the deserted road. She was tired and she was hungry. Even a pepper would have sounded good to her right then—even the hottest one in the entire world. Anything was better than nothing.
But there were no peppers, especially not even the hottest one in the world.
The young man was sitting outside the bar, his hands in his lap and looking around with a bored expression.
Suddenly, someone came up to him and said “Try a pepper?”
He sighed, “How much?”
“Oh, they’re free, just try it!”
He grabbed one, grumbling about how outrageous people were today, and shoved the pepper into his mouth. Immediately, he felt like his mouth was on fire. He started gasping and stared up at the woman giving them out.
I hate peppers. There was only one time in which I didn’t hate peppers and that was in my chinese food. I guess that’s not really interesting but only really cool people can talk about peppers in an interesting way I guess. There I go again…can’t even get a paragraph without insulting myself.
Buts
I love peppers. In Mexico are very spicy, like habanero, jalapeño and chile de árbol.
Vanesa
“Are you sure?” The younger asked, eyeing his older brother cautiously.
“Yes, I’m positive! The pepper won’t burn, I swear!” Alex, the older brother, exclaimed. He then ducked his head under the table so his brother wouldn’t see the huge and mischievous grin that spread across his face.
Andrea
he used to cook me peppers. peppers with cheese and peppers without it
under the rain we ate it
but even in the fullest of our bellys
our hearts felt like
empty shelvs
of when he made me peppers
this is lame
Lara
He had peppers, had them dangling from his car mirror–the one spot of red in his car, mesmerizing as they danced back and forth–a necklace with a ruby-colored pepper close to his chest–again, a spot of red against otherwise plain clothes, but more often than not hidden under his shirt–and whenever he ordered Kung Pao chicken he would suck the peppers dry, painstakingly pick out all the seeds with his chopsticks.
“What’s your obsession with peppers?” I asked, and he didn’t respond, and kept looking forwards, his two hands firm on the wheel, a model good driver.
But then a few seconds later, he ran his right hand over the pepper on his necklace, and said slowly, in a faraway voice, “It’s a symbol. I think… everyone has some sort of spicyness, something really interesting, but they hide it inside and you have to dig it out. I guess that’s what I want to say.”
ANcho peppers are very hard to find apparently in Indiana, as I have found out this week by looking for them for a recipe we will be cooking later in the week. Found every other kind of pepper there is, except Ancho ones. Not even the International grocery store had any, very surprising.
JD Welker
We were forced through the tunnel, each of our essence was shredded to countless pieces. No long powerful and feared, our incomplete parts were then dumped carelessly on a lifeless pile of gooeyness. Why must life be this way?
He began chopping the peppers with precise movements. I watched him with wide eyes as the pepper shrank to a pile of little bits.
“Wow.”
“It’s nothing, really. Just a little slice here and there.”
“Don’t be modest. You’re like a blender. If you were a video game villain, you’d be Blenderman.”
Salt is a generally accepted as a compliment to pepper. it is used through out the world as a condiment. it cause sneezing if in close proximity to your nose.
mirza baig
Joan was not careful about her peppers. She just did not pay attention, loved peppers, but could never get a handle on what kind she had.
On the table were four red bell peppers. They were grown in my mothers garden. I hated them, but she insisted on planting them.
Clio
They were beautiful: full and colorful and shiny in the sunlight. They were smooth and cool, despite sitting in almost-direct sun. She carefully pulled the ready-to-be-eaten peppers off the plant and carried them inside, already excited for dinner.
I was headed to the store to get peppers. It seemed my wife’s craving changed daily, and today she wanted the one vegetable we didn’t have in the house: peppers. It wasn’t a long trip but an inconvienent one at four in the morning. Still I found myself with just slippered on as I trudged through the store on a mad hunt for her peppers. She claimed not to care what kind of peppers I returned with, but I knew that was. Never true with these kinds of things. If I brought back red she’d want green and vice versa; I won’t even get started on hot erses sweet.
Nicole
i like peppers especially red peppers . chees and peppers make a good sandwhich
Hi- lo- dolly- pepper, one of those playground skipping rhymes that probably meant something one upon a time. Pepper is not a word that I like. Too many P’s . P words tend to be absurd words.
Bunty
Why does everyone else like cooked peppers so much? I really can’t stand them. They taste odd and their texture is just horrible. But they’re in everything, sitting amongst all the good vegetables in the world like tiny green mushy booby traps that I have to carefully pick around.
Zpikii
green. it was early in the morning and the chickens ran wild. I can hear a dog in the distance, the morning dew still lingered and it smelled of wet soil.
J Chirinos Sanchez
“Peppers!” I sprang back from the table, knocking my chair over in a frantic attempt to get all remnants of the vile vegetables out of my mouth. “Jesus Christ, Aaron, you know I’m allergic!”
Aaron looked startled and chagrined. “I…I…”
“Oh don’t say anything at all!”
Claire
Peppers. Many kinds of peppers, all with different tastes. Sweet peppers, don’t taste sweet. They’re pretty tart. And they have weird names – bell, sweet, scorpion, congo, 7pot, bird.
Kayleigh
Hot hot hot wow. I’m pounding my fist on the table like Adam Richman during a spicy wings challenge. My uncle grew this pepper in garden, and it’s goddamn hot. Drink water’s not going to help you.
scott duval
As the oil heated he chopped the chile peppers, and the fire from their scent heated the kitchen hotter than a summer day in Bangkok.
“That smell always takes me back,” she said. “Thank goodness you learned to cook.”
“I had to,” he replied. “You’re the only person I know whose cooking was so bad it got you kicked out of a country. If I hadn’t learned to cook, we never could’ve gone back to Thailand.”
Why is it always peppers? Mom has to put them in just about everything. No matter, what I hate the flavor. It’s either way too spicy. Or else it’s that weird rubber non-flavor in bell peppers
peppers and onions. That is what I want on my sausage sandwich. I thought it was a simple request. Then I get questions like what type of peppers – jalepeno, banana, red, orange, green, habjerno…?
Jacqui
Pepper is one of those additives you have to be mindful of seasoning with. Too much leaves a hot, grainy taste in the mouth, not enough a bland pallet of bite. Use sparingly, as with many things in life.
Red, yellow, green, orange peppers. Colourful and tasty, quite healthy too – one of your five a day! Black pepper on pasta – very nice. Growing peppers in your garden would be great too.
Peppers
Those leaves finely curled ready and waiting for the sun’s heat to bare their fruits. The crunch and snap, sautéed with a generous portion of anchovies and onions. The savory flavor that makes a chili what it is. Stuffed and baked, dipped in ranch. Green orbs of goodness full of promise and vitality.
A year had passed since the trial. Alice decided to go live with her mother. In the days after her release, she had taken to vandalising the place as a way of getting back at her father, literally tearing down the walls of what was once her prison. Even the garden, with no flowers, but rows of spices and red peppers her father had planted, was destroyed, the bitter fruit left to rot in disorganised rows. But now her father’s house had served it’s purpose, and she wanted to be free of it too. It did not fit with the life she wanted now.
tonykeyesjapan
Again with the peppers. Why must there be so many peppers? They don’t feel substantial enough to have any real value, but boy howdy can they pack a punch! They make me cry, worse than onions, so when we are on the outs, Iget them out to cover for me.
Bell
cayenne
red
green
yellow
ghost
Hungarian yellow
Oh my god they all sound so freakin’ delicious right now. Spice up your life! Cliché up your life right now.
I could run in so many directions with this word. But given the mass of different feelings fighting for control right now, I think my safest bet would be to sit this one out. I don’t want to be sad. Don’t want the slip and slide down into the red zone. Some people help me forget, others make remembering far too easy.
I hate peppers. It started as a child. Mom put them in meatloaf, and spaghetti.
I shudder just thinking about it.
beautiful red long slieves that can be hot as a fire itself. It contains numerous healthy things such as hornyness.
There were two of them. Both were “sistahs” and both had that undefinable accent. They were like a mix of Portuguese, Latin, and French that seemed to know so much about fashion yet was only able to put it in yelling terms. I loved them.
It was hot. The sun was bright, shining down on the girl who was slowly dragging herself along the deserted road. She was tired and she was hungry. Even a pepper would have sounded good to her right then—even the hottest one in the entire world. Anything was better than nothing.
But there were no peppers, especially not even the hottest one in the world.
There was nothing to help her out there.
The young man was sitting outside the bar, his hands in his lap and looking around with a bored expression.
Suddenly, someone came up to him and said “Try a pepper?”
He sighed, “How much?”
“Oh, they’re free, just try it!”
He grabbed one, grumbling about how outrageous people were today, and shoved the pepper into his mouth. Immediately, he felt like his mouth was on fire. He started gasping and stared up at the woman giving them out.
“Water is ten dollars.” She said with a smile.
I hate peppers. There was only one time in which I didn’t hate peppers and that was in my chinese food. I guess that’s not really interesting but only really cool people can talk about peppers in an interesting way I guess. There I go again…can’t even get a paragraph without insulting myself.
I love peppers. In Mexico are very spicy, like habanero, jalapeño and chile de árbol.
“Are you sure?” The younger asked, eyeing his older brother cautiously.
“Yes, I’m positive! The pepper won’t burn, I swear!” Alex, the older brother, exclaimed. He then ducked his head under the table so his brother wouldn’t see the huge and mischievous grin that spread across his face.
he used to cook me peppers. peppers with cheese and peppers without it
under the rain we ate it
but even in the fullest of our bellys
our hearts felt like
empty shelvs
of when he made me peppers
this is lame
He had peppers, had them dangling from his car mirror–the one spot of red in his car, mesmerizing as they danced back and forth–a necklace with a ruby-colored pepper close to his chest–again, a spot of red against otherwise plain clothes, but more often than not hidden under his shirt–and whenever he ordered Kung Pao chicken he would suck the peppers dry, painstakingly pick out all the seeds with his chopsticks.
“What’s your obsession with peppers?” I asked, and he didn’t respond, and kept looking forwards, his two hands firm on the wheel, a model good driver.
But then a few seconds later, he ran his right hand over the pepper on his necklace, and said slowly, in a faraway voice, “It’s a symbol. I think… everyone has some sort of spicyness, something really interesting, but they hide it inside and you have to dig it out. I guess that’s what I want to say.”
ANcho peppers are very hard to find apparently in Indiana, as I have found out this week by looking for them for a recipe we will be cooking later in the week. Found every other kind of pepper there is, except Ancho ones. Not even the International grocery store had any, very surprising.
We were forced through the tunnel, each of our essence was shredded to countless pieces. No long powerful and feared, our incomplete parts were then dumped carelessly on a lifeless pile of gooeyness. Why must life be this way?
I remember the way it tasted,
all black and white like us.
And I remember never being able to live without it, too.
I remember when the night came,
the soup was hot,
and the peppers,
they piled up like little islands.
I escape within the brothy sea.
He began chopping the peppers with precise movements. I watched him with wide eyes as the pepper shrank to a pile of little bits.
“Wow.”
“It’s nothing, really. Just a little slice here and there.”
“Don’t be modest. You’re like a blender. If you were a video game villain, you’d be Blenderman.”
Salt is a generally accepted as a compliment to pepper. it is used through out the world as a condiment. it cause sneezing if in close proximity to your nose.
Joan was not careful about her peppers. She just did not pay attention, loved peppers, but could never get a handle on what kind she had.
On the table were four red bell peppers. They were grown in my mothers garden. I hated them, but she insisted on planting them.
They were beautiful: full and colorful and shiny in the sunlight. They were smooth and cool, despite sitting in almost-direct sun. She carefully pulled the ready-to-be-eaten peppers off the plant and carried them inside, already excited for dinner.
I was headed to the store to get peppers. It seemed my wife’s craving changed daily, and today she wanted the one vegetable we didn’t have in the house: peppers. It wasn’t a long trip but an inconvienent one at four in the morning. Still I found myself with just slippered on as I trudged through the store on a mad hunt for her peppers. She claimed not to care what kind of peppers I returned with, but I knew that was. Never true with these kinds of things. If I brought back red she’d want green and vice versa; I won’t even get started on hot erses sweet.
i like peppers especially red peppers . chees and peppers make a good sandwhich
yuck!
Hi- lo- dolly- pepper, one of those playground skipping rhymes that probably meant something one upon a time. Pepper is not a word that I like. Too many P’s . P words tend to be absurd words.
Why does everyone else like cooked peppers so much? I really can’t stand them. They taste odd and their texture is just horrible. But they’re in everything, sitting amongst all the good vegetables in the world like tiny green mushy booby traps that I have to carefully pick around.
green. it was early in the morning and the chickens ran wild. I can hear a dog in the distance, the morning dew still lingered and it smelled of wet soil.
“Peppers!” I sprang back from the table, knocking my chair over in a frantic attempt to get all remnants of the vile vegetables out of my mouth. “Jesus Christ, Aaron, you know I’m allergic!”
Aaron looked startled and chagrined. “I…I…”
“Oh don’t say anything at all!”
Peppers. Many kinds of peppers, all with different tastes. Sweet peppers, don’t taste sweet. They’re pretty tart. And they have weird names – bell, sweet, scorpion, congo, 7pot, bird.
Hot hot hot wow. I’m pounding my fist on the table like Adam Richman during a spicy wings challenge. My uncle grew this pepper in garden, and it’s goddamn hot. Drink water’s not going to help you.
As the oil heated he chopped the chile peppers, and the fire from their scent heated the kitchen hotter than a summer day in Bangkok.
“That smell always takes me back,” she said. “Thank goodness you learned to cook.”
“I had to,” he replied. “You’re the only person I know whose cooking was so bad it got you kicked out of a country. If I hadn’t learned to cook, we never could’ve gone back to Thailand.”
Why is it always peppers? Mom has to put them in just about everything. No matter, what I hate the flavor. It’s either way too spicy. Or else it’s that weird rubber non-flavor in bell peppers
Hot, colors like a rainbow. Growing in the fields.
peppers and onions. That is what I want on my sausage sandwich. I thought it was a simple request. Then I get questions like what type of peppers – jalepeno, banana, red, orange, green, habjerno…?
Pepper is one of those additives you have to be mindful of seasoning with. Too much leaves a hot, grainy taste in the mouth, not enough a bland pallet of bite. Use sparingly, as with many things in life.
Red, yellow, green, orange peppers. Colourful and tasty, quite healthy too – one of your five a day! Black pepper on pasta – very nice. Growing peppers in your garden would be great too.
have a whiff
sneeze if you love me
Crunchy, spicy and oh so colourful. That’s how she liked them done. Just like what humans call peppers.
Peppers
Those leaves finely curled ready and waiting for the sun’s heat to bare their fruits. The crunch and snap, sautéed with a generous portion of anchovies and onions. The savory flavor that makes a chili what it is. Stuffed and baked, dipped in ranch. Green orbs of goodness full of promise and vitality.
A year had passed since the trial. Alice decided to go live with her mother. In the days after her release, she had taken to vandalising the place as a way of getting back at her father, literally tearing down the walls of what was once her prison. Even the garden, with no flowers, but rows of spices and red peppers her father had planted, was destroyed, the bitter fruit left to rot in disorganised rows. But now her father’s house had served it’s purpose, and she wanted to be free of it too. It did not fit with the life she wanted now.
Again with the peppers. Why must there be so many peppers? They don’t feel substantial enough to have any real value, but boy howdy can they pack a punch! They make me cry, worse than onions, so when we are on the outs, Iget them out to cover for me.