The forest lay quiet. The only sound being heard was the soft sound of the wind through the leaves. In a glade surrounded by five old oaks two men stood facing each other. Between them was a rock, about four feet high, that in the eerie shadows from the trees almost resembled an altar. You could almost taste the tension between the two as they looked at each other. They had once been the best of friends, but now they were enemies. The taller of the two was a black man called Nomzamo with long dark hair in a big mess. He was wearing a rather strange looking hat and a old dirty poncho. His eyes glinted as he looked at his old friend Criff who was in a state of utmost concentration. Criff was shorter than Nomzamo, had dark blonde hair and wore a tattered cloak. Under one of the trees another person, who also wore a hat, could be seen. He sat in the grass with a big backpack between his knees and looked nervously at the two combatants while he absent-mindedly poked in the ground with his walking stick.
“Guys...Do you really have to do this?” he said.
“Yes, Morry, we must”, said Nomzamo softly. “There is no other way. It’s too late for that.”
“But it’s just…”
“Quiet Morgan”, interrupted Criff. “Zamo is right. This is the only option left for us.”  

With that said the two men turned their attention towards each other again. The stakes were high and neither of them saw failure as an option. This was a battle that neither of them could afford to lose. Nomzamo slowly raised his hands and cracked his knuckles with a intimidating smile. Criff smirked back, and without losing eye contact he picked up the first jalapeño from the big pile on the stone between them and put it in his mouth. He carefully chewed on it. felt how it started to cause the inside of his mouth to burn in a most unpleasant way, and swallowed it. He breathed heavily for a moment before giving his opponent a most triumphant grin. Nomzamo hissed silently between his teeth. Morgan sighed.
“I think it’s a awful lot of trouble for a piece of cake”, he said.
The other two ignored his question as Nomzamo picked up a jalapeño from his pile. He was just about to put it in his mouth when Morgan spoke again:
“Can’t you just share the damn thing?”
Nomzamo and Criff glared at him. His presence was starting to annoy them.
“It’s too small to share”, said Nomzamo as if he was explaining something obvious to a stupid child. “If you hadn’t eaten so much of it there would be enough left to share; but you didn’t and there isn’t. Besides, this isn’t just any cake. This is chocolate cake. Now be quiet already! This is serious!”
“Fine”, said Morgan and took up a bottle of milk from the backpack and took a sip. Nomzamo put the jalapeño in his mouth. When he had swallowed it he yawned and said:
“Delicious things, these fruits.”
Criff blinked. So that’s how he wanted it? Then let’s make it more interesting.
“Quite…” he said. “Then you won’t mind making them a bit more tasty?”
With that he took two jalapeños at once and put in his mouth. He could almost hear his mouth scream of pain as the taste of the fruits really started to work it’s way into him. He started to feel hot, but Nomzamo didn’t look quite as calm anymore, and that was enough to make him forget about it. Nomzamo bravely took two jalapeños and ate them. Criff smiled viciously as he saw his opponents’ eyes twitch while he struggled to maintain a calm face.

Soon they had both eaten nine jalapeños each and the effect on them was starting to show. Criffs’ face was red and sweaty and Nomzamo stood breathing heavily. Morgan, who had now started to find the contest most amusing, wondered if their eyes would pop out of their sockets.
“I… can’t feel my knees…” panted Criff.
“Do you give up?” Nomzamo said hopefully with strained voice.
“Of course not!”
Criff loosened his cloak and let it fall to the ground, then he took another fruit and gave it a look of utter horror before eating it. Nomzamo took of his hat and threw it to Morgan who put it on, atop the hat he was already wearing, with a strange smile on his face. The next moment Nomzamos poncho came flying through the air.
“Hey! I don’t want your dirty old poncho! protested Morgan. It just stinks of  mud and…” He carefully sniffed on it. “…something I can’t place. I suppose I should be happy for that.” He threw away the poncho, aiming for a innocent bird that barely escaped the deadly garment. When he looked back at the contestants he saw Criff swallow another pair of jalapeños with a satisfied smile on his face (that had now turned to an interesting shade of purple).  

Suddenly everything fell silent as Nomzamo picked up five fruits. The other two stared at him chocked.
“…and the plot thickens.” mumbled Morgan with a smirk and took another sip of milk.
“You can’t be serious!” Criff almost yelled.
“Yes, I am.” Nomzamo said solemnly and threw the fruits into his mouth and ate them. His eyes were wide open and tears ran down his cheeks. He stood with his hands on his knees and breathed heavily while making some very strange noises. But then he slowly straightened up while letting out a diabolic giggle, for he was in the lead (later Morgan would try to imitate that giggle many times to no success when he tried to convince people that there actually were such a thing as a diabolic giggle).

For a moment no one said anything. The only sound being heard except the wind was Nomzamo who hadn’t quite recovered from the horrors of the five fruits yet. Morgan was the first to break the silence:
“Well, that was amusing… Your turn then, Criffy my lad. Five of those tiny things shouldn’t be a problem for you, right? Not after the twelve you’ve already eaten, no?”
Criff picked up five jalapeños and looked at the vile, evil things. It seemed to him that they were laughing at him and couldn’t wait to join their twelve buddies that had already made his mouth, throat and stomach feel like a volcano of pain. He shuddered, braced himself, and then put them into his mouth and started chewing. His tongue started crying, his teeth turned green and he started seeing lots of red dots. Then he made a fatal decision. He spat. The half chewed jalapeños flew through the air and landed on the rock. Criff fell down on his knees with tears in his eyes.
“No cake in the world is worth this!” he whimpered with weak voice.  
“Y-you mean… you give up?!” Nomzamo said. Criff nodded with his eyes fixed on the grass. “Oh, thank God!” Nomzamo exclaimed. “I thought it would never end!”
“Just… just give me… something to drink” panted Criff.
“Yes, m-me too” said Nomzamo to Morgan.
“Well… uh, actually…” Morgan began nervously and held up the bottle of milk he had had in his hands. It was empty.  
“You drank all the milk?!?” Criff yelled as loud as his sore throat allowed him.
“I’ll strangle you with that stupid little hat of yours, Morry!!” screamed Nomzamo.
Morgan got to his feet and carefully started to back away from his friends.
“Easy now, guys… I’m not the one who just had to have a eating contest with jalapeños. Besides, there is a pond like 300 feet that way.”
Criff and Nomzamo immediately started running in the direction Morgan pointed out.
“But water won’t do you no good!” he yelled after them. “It doesn’t have the… Oh, never mind.”
For a moment he stood there without knowing what to do. Then he started walking after his friends. He found them at the pond gulping down as much of the brownish water as they could.
“So… Do you want the cake right away or do you want to wait a few minutes, Zamo?” he said.  
“You… take it!” Nomzamo said panting while pouring water over his head. “I don’t think I’ll… be able to eat anything for days!”
“Oh… thanks.” Morgan said.

He walked back to the glade whistling a tune, leaving his friends to discover for themselves that the water wouldn’t make the hot taste go away. He sat down and picked up the last piece of chocolate cake that had been so much fought over and started to eat it. He broke off a piece and threw to the bird that he had previously tried to trap under Nomzamos’ poncho. He looked at the small pile of jalapeños that were still lying on the rock.
“I do wonder where they got all those jalapeños from” he said to the bird.

And the moral of the story is that you shouldn’t have eating contests involving jalapeños (or any kind of hot spice for that matter), because you won’t be feeling too good even if you win.