This Texas chili cook-off joke has been around a long time. Every time I read it online somewhere, it varies a little but the main concept still shines through. Frank is always the main character and judge #3 but the exact location in Texas where it takes place seems to be different each time. Frank seems to come from multiple states other than Texas.
The joke made me cry (from laughing so hard), but only the first time I read it. It still makes me smile. If you can read this whole story without smiling, then there’s no hope for you.
Note: Please take time to read this slowly. If you pay attention to the first two judges, the reaction of the third judge is even better. For those of you who have lived in Texas, you know how true this is. They actually have a chili cook-off about the time Halloween comes around. It takes up a major part of a parking lot at the San Antonio City Park.
Judge #3 was an inexperienced Chili taster named Frank, who was visiting from Springfield, IL.
Frank: “Recently, I was honored to be selected as a judge at a chili cook-off. The original person called in sick at the last moment and I happened to be standing there at the judge’s table, asking for directions to the Coors Light truck, when the call came in. I was assured by the other two judges (native Texans) that the chili wouldn’t be all that spicy and, besides, they told me I could have free beer during the tasting, so I accepted and became Judge 3.”
Here are the scorecard notes from the event:
Judge # 1 — A little too heavy on the tomato. Amusing kick.
Judge # 2 — Nice, smooth tomato flavor. Very mild.
Judge # 3 — Holy crap, what the hell is in this stuff? You could remove dried paint from your driveway. Took me two beers to put the flames out. I hope that’s the worst one. These Texans are crazy.
Judge # 1 — Smoky, with a hint of pork. Slight jalapeño tang.
Judge # 2 — Exciting BBQ flavor, needs more peppers to be taken seriously.
Judge # 3 — Keep this out of the reach of children. I’m not sure what I’m supposed to taste besides pain. I had to wave off two people who wanted to give me the Heimlich maneuver. They had to rush in more beer when they saw the look on my face.
Judge # 1 — Excellent firehouse chili. Great kick.
Judge # 2 — A bit salty, good use of peppers.
Judge # 3 — Call the EPA. I’ve located a uranium spill. My nose feels like I’ve snorted Drano. Everyone knows the routine by now. Get me more beer before I ignite. Sally, the barmaid, pounded me on the back and now my backbone is in the front part of my chest. I’m getting sh*t-faced from all the beer.
Judge # 1 — Black bean chili with almost no spice. Disappointing.
Judge # 2 — Hint of lime in the black beans. Good side dish for fish or other mild foods, not much of a chili.
Judge # 3 — I felt something scraping across my tongue, but was unable to taste it. Is it possible to burn our taste buds? Sally was standing behind me with fresh refills. This 300 lb. woman is starting to look HOT… just like this nuclear waste I’m eating! Is chili an aphrodisiac?
Judge # 1 — Meaty, strong chili. Cayenne peppers freshly ground, adding considerable kick. Very impressive.
Judge # 2 — Chili using shredded beef, could use more tomato. Must admit the cayenne peppers make a strong statement.
Judge # 3 — My ears are ringing, sweat is pouring off my forehead and I can no longer focus my eyes. I farted, and four people behind me needed paramedics. The contestant seemed offended when I told her that her chili had given me brain damage. Sally saved my tongue from bleeding by pouring beer directly on it from the pitcher. I wonder if I’m burning my lips off. It really ticks me off that the other judges asked me to stop screaming. Screw them.
Judge # 1 — Thin yet bold vegetarian variety chili. Good balance of spices and peppers.
Judge # 2 — The best yet. Aggressive use of peppers, onions, garlic. Superb.
Judge # 3 — My intestines are now a straight pipe filled with gaseous, sulfuric flames. I crapped on myself when I farted, and I’m worried it will eat through the chair. No one seems inclined to stand behind me except Sally. Can’t feel my lips anymore. I need to wipe my butt with a snow cone.
Judge # 1 — A mediocre chili with too much reliance on canned peppers.
Judge # 2 — Ho hum, tastes as if the chef literally threw in a can of chili peppers at the last moment. I should take note that I am worried about Judge #3. He appears to be in a bit of distress as he is cursing uncontrollably.
Judge # 3 — You could put a grenade in my mouth, pull the pin, and I wouldn’t feel a thing. I’ve lost sight in one eye, and the world sounds like it is made of rushing water. My shirt is covered with chili, which slid unnoticed out of my mouth. My pants are full of lava to match my shirt. At least during the autopsy, they’ll know what killed me. I’ve decided to stop breathing because it’s too painful. Screw it. I’m not getting any oxygen anyway. If I need air, I’ll just suck it in through the 4-inch hole in my stomach.
Judge # 1 — The perfect ending, this is a nice blend chili. Not too bold but spicy enough to declare its existence.
Judge # 2 — This last entry is a good, balanced chili. Neither mild nor hot. Sorry to see that most of it was lost when Judge #3 farted, passed out, fell over and pulled the chili pot down on top of himself. Not sure if he’s going to make it. Poor fellow, wonder how he’d have reacted to really hot chili?
Judge # 3 — No report.
It’s crude and it’s rude, but it’s funny and with a few minor corrections. I especially liked “I farted, and four people behind me needed paramedics.” Sounds a lot like me after eating anything with beans in it. It’s the easiest way to get people to leave my house.
Photo Attribution: Epukas / Public domain
Edited and updated. Originally published at one of my other websites in May 2016.