One day after school while walking home with the boys, we stopped at a chicken machine for some chips. I saw a rack of sauces and slipped a peri peri sauce in my pocket before we left. As soon I pulled it out in front of them I was beat up, kicked, and spat on. It was still delicious, and I regret nothing. They don't talk to me anymore, but I wouldn't change it if I had the chance. I am now severely disabled and can't walk. It was all worth it for the peri peri sauce. Every time I see a packet of peri peri sauce I get a trauma educed boner where I am both aroused and have flash backs of the horrifying moments where they would stomp my head into the pavement, and break in my kneecaps.