At last! Score one for Shelley Green, mentally congratulated herself. Alas, it turned out to be premature triumph. Because the next moment she felt a burning napalm chilli sauce burns to her back wall of the eyeball. Then the fire of hell flared in her throat. Shelley grabbed by the throat, rolling his eyes in agony, and waved her arms, begging to give her bread. She tried to explain the marks to Keith that her stomach enzymes quarreled with the palatine tonsils. Chili in the snails? The menu said nothing about the chili.