It's Friday night. Instead of watching the ballgame and further heighten your rump impressions all over the leather couch, you decide to surprise your dearly loved wife by taking her out to dinner. You figure might as well, once in your life, show her that you are indeed a grateful husband and not the egotistical chauvinist pig that she tacitly assumed you were.
Thus you put on your thinking cap and proceed to carefully weigh your options. Where should you take her? After a mere few seconds of intense reflection, since you don't want to deplete all your residual neurons and have some set aside in case of an emergency (e.g. smoking, drinking) the dim light bulb upstairs flicks on and rat-a-tat. Alike those annoying shoplifter's alert warning devices at the stores, voila, the image of a huge green hot pepper comes into view, a jalapeno to be precise. What a terrific inkling! You approach your sweetie and in your charming manly voice but softly, almost whispering the words, say to her: "Babe, why don't you dress up? Let's go to Tequila Sunrise and have some of those chicken fajitas that you like so much."
Once you arrive at the restaurant, waiting for a table, both of you sit by the circular bar. You have a Light Corona. It tastes like water. You stare at the beer bottle and gradually embark yourself in a pleasant reverie. You are in a tropical island, exactly like the one in the TV commercial, but for some peculiar reason your imaginary journey is cut short. It feels more like foggy London with all those smoke puffs hovering over your shoulder, disenchanted you chew your lime twist.
Finally, seated at your table waiting to be served, the mariachi band finishes playing the popular "El rey," and at that precise moment you hear a discordant trumpet toned sound, it's not a beeper, it's a loud blast quickly followed by a fetid smell. Who could do something like that? You squeeze your nose and attempt to hold your breath. Still gasping for air, you notice that the gentleman sitting across your table is smirking and nodding at your wife: "excuse me ma'am! I've just backfired. I believe the refried beans did the trick."