It all started when I dropped a small cologne bottle in the sink. It was an innocent accident, occurring as I reached past it for the deodorant, which tipped over in the cabinet.

The bottle of cologne fell into the sink, breaking the lid but not the bottle. Considering myself lucky, I snatched up the bottle before very much of it managed to dribble out.

It was a fairly expensive brand, which someone had given me for a Christmas present. I hardly ever buy my own cologne. Who needs to when Christmas is coming again in just a few months? I usually just wear whatever I get, unless it's really bad.

Anyway, the search was on for a viable lid alternative in the bathroom cabinet. Having exhausted all options, from toothpaste to other types of cologne, I decided to break for a snack. I carried the bottle of cologne with me to the kitchen. It's hard to think on an empty stomach and besides, I always try to have a good nutritious breakfast.

The refrigerator contained one of my favorite foods, leftover pizza. So much for nutrition. I grabbed two slices, placed them on a pizza pan and put the whole package in the oven. Pizza is always terrible out of the microwave. Meanwhile, I went back to the refrigerator to fish out some hot sauce and stinky cheese. In case you don't know, stinky cheese at my house is a mixture of grated parmesan and romano.

Anyway, while the pizza was heating up, I poured myself a big glass of milk and sat down at the table to wait. In the meantime, I took the cap off the hot sauce and opened the cheese. After toying with the cap, I noticed that it was similar in size to the perfume bottle. On a whim, I gave it a try. It threaded on easily, as if it were made for it. After rinsing the hot sauce off off of it, I screwed it on tightly and gave the bottle the upside-down test. It passed with flying colors, or at least without flying perfume.

As I munched my lukewarm pizza with black pepperoni, I figured my idea would work. After all, hot sauce doesn't seem to evaporate much. Later, I would regret that decision.

After a number of uses, the aluminum foil I substituted for a cap on the hot sauce was no where to be found. Therefore, the bottle continued on as it always had, only without a cap. I usually warn everyone when they pick it up.

One Saturday, I had a friend and his wife over for a little cookout. The husband is a hot sauce appreciator, much like myself. His wife is allergic to anything with flavor. Of course, I am exaggerating by a bit. She only hates anything with a particularly good flavor, given my brief experiences with her cooking. Maybe that's why her husband loves hot sauce.

He's been a friend for years, but the wife is a recent addition, he thought he had a fine dessert to finish his meal of life. I saw it more as candle wax on the birthday cake, but it isn't my cake. She always seems to be harrying him. In a way, she and both enjoy to not liking each other. Anyway, he and I were talking as I was cooking hamburgers on the grill, glad to be outside. I made her special ones without spices. Once I had the first round off, I carried them in for everyone to get started.

After I put the burgers down, my friend, the husband, asked for hot sauce. Once you get used to eating it on everything, I suppose it's hard to put down. I told him it was in the refrigerator. So, he went to get it and I went back outside to fetch hotdogs.

After a few minutes, I heard his wife complaining. "These burgers are burning my mouth," she said. I knew I hadn't put anything on them that was remotely spicy, unless salt and pepper were too extreme. Her husband had already shaken on his hot sauce and applied onions, spicy brown mustard, tomato, lettuce and pepper rings to his sandwich. He didn't seem to hear his wife complaining, lost in some sort of mandible symphony of crunching onion and potato chips.

She finally put the burger down. "I'm sorry, I can't eat this. It's burning my mouth," she said. Then, after a pause, she eyed me suspiciously. "Did you put something on it?"

"Of course not, I know how you are," I said, referring to more than her palate. "I didn't sabotage your sandwich." After inspecting her burger, I discovered tell-tale signs of hot sauce exposure. Just a little had soaked into the top of the bun, so little that I probably wouldn't have even noticed.

"I couldn't find the lid to your hot sauce," my friend said as he helped me clear the table. I noticed several spots on his shirt. He obviously didn't notice the capless bottle until he had started shaking it up. Of course, I had to share the story of the cologne bottle and the leftover pizza. The wife looked incredulous Å\ convinced that I was guilty. It's hard to shake such an accusation when you have historically been a prankster of sorts. The best I can figure, he must have shaken the sauce and spilled a drop or so on her burger. At least that's my story. Now all I need to do is figure out what kind of lid I can find to fit on the hot sauce bottle.

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