Welcome to “The Coyote Revival Tales“. These are modern stories based on true events from friends, family and other brave souls. I have retold them with a Coyote twist to make them more fun. If you have a crazy story that I can pull some Coyote energy out of that you would like to see in this blog, send it to me. Remember it’s just for fun – no fame, no fortune – just the way Coyote would like it.
Coyote Revival Tales Chapter 1 – Coyote Cuts Peppers
by Sue Sierralupe
Coyote went a potluck at Wolf’s house. When he arrived at the party, all his friends were already there. Coyote said his hellos and grabbed a beer from the cooler. He opened it the cool way – with his eye socket. Girls love that stuff.
Wolf patted Coyote on the back, “Glad you could make it, Coyote. The party wouldn’t be the same with you. What did you bring to the potluck?”
Coyote held up a grocery bag.
“I’m going to make fresh salsa. I brought tomatoes, onions, garlic, cilantro and hot peppers. I just need a little space to work my magic.”
Wolf nodded in approval and directed Coyote towards the kitchen.
“We can use it to spice up the main dish, Coyote.”
Coyote glanced over at the BBQ. Something was browning nicely on the grill.
“What is the main dish, Wolf?”
“One of the guests arrived without a potluck dish and, well … you know the rules.”
Coyote shook his head. “Crazy herbivores. When will they ever learn?”
Coyote sidled up the counter and started cutting vegetables for the salsa. He sang a little song as he chopped both to make the work more pleasant and to attract chicks. Soon he had gathered a crowd.
Coyote started showing off some of his finer culinary abilities. He sliced and diced while flipping the knives around like a ninja juggler. The women oohed and aahed appropriately. The men egged him on with dangerous ideas that only sounded feasible after several beers.
After a little while, Coyote had nicks and cuts all over his paws. Wolf’s wife had thought ahead and place the 1st aid kit next to the cutting board which was great with Coyote. He planned to use it when the salsa was finished. Once he figured out which chick was the cutest, he could play the sympathy card and talk his chosen hottie into putting bandages on his manly paws.
By the time Coyote was ready to cut the peppers, his mental safety switch, which is normally a minimal part of his thought process anyway, was completely switched off. He grabbed a hot pepper with a flourish and started dicing away. Coyote was feeling a little flushed but he attributed that to the beer and the female attention. He tossed the pepper into the salsa bowl and began chopping a zesty habanero chili.
Coyote’s paws began to burn. The hot pepper juice was making its way into his blood stream and enacting “the scorched earth policy” as it went. Coyote shook his paws to cool them off. No effect. He tried wiping the juice on a kitchen towel. Nope. He rinsed them in the sink. The burning was almost unbearable now.
Coyote jumped around howling and flapping his paws hysterically. Wolf’s wife scolded him from the sidelines. Some of the drunken party guests offered illogical folk remedies. In his panic, Coyote knocked over his beer. Some of the alcohol splashed onto his wounds. Coyote’s cuts started to feel better.
“More beer! More beer!” yelled Coyote.
“Just the cheap stuff!” yelled Wolf.
Wolf’s uninvited neighbor, Badger, shut his windows nervously when he heard this and sent his children to their rooms. Better safe than sorry.
Coyote started to calm down as the burning sensation subsided. His paws were red and throbbing but he relaxed with the knowledge that this was temporary and he would not have suffer paw amputation after all.
Wolf’s wife put on a movie to redirect the party. She set up a few TV trays and camp chairs to get every one cozy. Guests gathered in the living room to eat their food dinner-theater style. Wolf’s wife looked around after the previews.
“Where is Coyote?” she asked.
Wolf swallowed the oversized mouthful of potato salad and gestured to the bathroom.
“He finished cutting the peppers for the salsa and then had to go.”
Wolf’s wife paused. “Did he clean his hands before going to the toilet? He could get hot pepper into some very uncomfortable places.”
A surprised yelp came from the bathroom followed by an unhappy howling sound.
“Nope,” said Wolf, “I guess not.”
*This story was based on a potluck that my friend attended about 15 years ago. No guests were actually cannibalized at the potluck. I think they served hamburgers.