Written by Zach Grossfeld

The day is January 28th, 2023, and I'm in the Whistler ski village devouring a chicken burger with a bit of Sriracha as my mind flashes to a story I hadn't thought about in almost a year: The Drake Hot Sauce Incident.

Let me jog your memory in case it's lapsed. At the top of 2022, a story scorched through the tabloids where an Instagram model shoved a condom full of Drake's sperm and hot sauce up her pussy. Now why was there hot sauce in the condom? And even more importantly, why was she emptying the contents into such a sensitive landscape? Well, according to Daily Mail:

"The model claims that the self-proclaimed Certified Lover Boy - born Aubrey Drake Graham - added hot sauce into a used condom in order to kill his sperm after the two had sex. After he disposed of the condom she took it out of the trash and attempted to impregnate herself inside of the bathroom, not realizing what it contained."

As my teeth sink into the pretzel bun through the sriracha-soaked lettuce and onions and finally into the chicken, I can't help but wonder about the finer details of the hot sauce incident.

For example, if this story really happened, that would mean that Drake would first have to actively choose the right brand of hot sauce to get the job done. I imagine Drake strolling through the Toronto Trader Joe's (Drake's actually a TJ's guy, not the Whole Foods or Erewhon type. Shocking, but I like him more for that) as he's pondering: "What's a product that'll induce a good coochi burn but won't leave any lasting damage? I want to teach these ladies a lesson, not cauterize their clitoris."

Then, his eyes hit the hot sauce samples. It's Tuesday, so Trader Joe's has their full sample spread on display. He picks up a small plastic cup next to a label that reads "Chili Pepper Sauce," and dips in his pinky finger up to the ring. As he removes the last of his tip from the sauce he dangles it over his tongue letting two drops fall onto his palette. Drake closes his eyes and tries to imagine himself as a pussy, embodying the essence of the female flower.

"Show me all your colors," he whispers to himself as he lets the full body of the sauce spread from his real lips to the imagined ones. He feels a flicker of singe that crescendos into searing pain causing a drop, one part tear - one part sweat, to cascade down his right cheek. "Too hot to handle," Drake says to the sauce as he kisses the cup and places it in the dirty stack. The Chili Pepper Sauce has a powerful kick, but too powerful for the likes of Drake's latex insurance plan.

Then, Drake's eyes catch a colorful sauce labeled "Green Dragon." He dips his other pinky in and again lets two drops fall to his tongue. The taste instantly transports him to a fresh meadow full of Everlasting Daisies and all of his exes. His heart feels warm seeing everyone doing so well, and Drake approaches one of his exes named Jasmine who he parted ways with when things got crazy after So Far Gone.

Drake looking confused and scared when life changed after *So Far Gone* dropped

"Why didn't we work out?" Drake said to Jasmine.

"You had some kick but were ultimately too soft, like Green Dragon. I needed a real man," she said.

"You're right," said Drake as he blew into her face a handful of daisies causing Jasmine's form to shatter into a thousand pedals.

The wind swept her away as the Trader Joe's drifted back into Drake's vision. Green Dragon possessed a pleasant flare, but was too soft to extinguish the sperm of the world's biggest Popstar.

Drake's head swiveled in desperation over to his last chance: a small plastic cup filled with 'Habañero Hot Sauce.' He grabbed a napkin to clean his first pinky and dipped it in for a taste. It had some spice, but not too spicy, and warmth exploded in the megastar’s mouth causing a spike in adrenaline to awaken the senses. The colors of bananas and apples in the produce aisle shone brighter. Smells of fresh beef wafted into Drake's nostrils as if he were a boy visiting a butcher shop with his father for the first time. The touch of the plastic cup against his skin was smoother than The Weeknd's intro in "Crew Love."

Take your nose off my keyboard, Drake sang softly to himself as he sniffed deeply the majesty of the Habañero.

He had found the one.

He'd discovered the perfect sauce to inflict the coup de grâce unto his sperm, but not too harsh as to damage a woman's lady parts should she get any ideas.

Now, I know what you're thinking: Drake found the perfect sauce to prevent a pregnancy but is there any way that this model who spoke to the Daily Mail could have had something up her pussy sleeve? Why did she go to the tabloids with such an embarrassing story that only made her look like a conniving cum thief, and made Drake look like a sadboy King? Anyone with two cents for a brain would keep that incident to themselves.

Here's what I think really happened...

The model, let's call her Jessie, had been scoping out Drake for a while. She wanted the Canadian Poppa to plant one in her and she'd go to any lengths for those fat child support checks.

Jessie even landed a job at Trader Joe's serving Drake the very hot sauce he sampled before he bought the Habañero to bring back to his crib. She was wearing her Trader Joe's hat low and was careful not to let Drake catch a glimpse of her face full on.

She also infiltrated Drake's social circles which is where she first heard about Drake's Hot Sauce Plan: outside the bathroom at a party in his Toronto mansion. Drake and Future were having a heart-to-heart in one of the nineteen-and-a-half bathrooms at Bridle Path when Jessie put her ear against the door:

"Girls keep doing me like this man, I don't know what to do," said a voice that sounded like Drake.

"You got more Molly?" said another voice now revealed to be the rapper Future.

"Percocet?" responded Drake

"Nah, Molly."

"Molly or Percocet?" said Drake.

"I'll take both, Molly Percocet," said Future.

"Here you go man, what do I do about the girls though?"

"Chase a check, never chase a bitch."

"I'm good on that," said Drake, "You see all these plaques dog."

"Yeah, why you got all these plaques in the bathroom?"

"I like to look at my streams while I look at my stream."

"Hmmm, I gotta try that," said Future.

"Some of these girls though," said Drake, "Some of these girls be tryna steal my sperm and I don't know how to stop it."

"Whatchu mean?"

"Like when I toss my condoms out in here, they pretend they have to go to the bathroom, take my condom out the trash, and pour my semen into their lady flower."

"Ahh, I see the problem," said Future. "Stop using condoms."

"Wait, what? That would just make the problem I'm describing to you exponentially worse."

"Well, it's either that or pour some hot sauce in the rubber. It cancels out the sperm."

"Damn," said Drake, "You a genius."

"Certified," said Future.

Jessie overheard this conversation, immediately applied for a job at the local Trader Joe's (she had the inside scoop on Drake's go-to store), and made sure to be at the counter when Drake chose his preferred hot sauce brand.

Then, she used her influence in Drake's circle to cop a date with the Popstar. Things went well, almost too well. They caught a meal at Drake's favorite spot, Sotto Sotto, before heading back to the mansion.

This was it. This was Jessie's time to make a move. While she was making out with Drake on the couch in the living room, she pretended to go to the bathroom and snuck into Drake's bedroom where she found the bottle of Habañero in the nightstand drawer. She replaced the bottle with an identical bottle of her own Habañero, only this version was just water with red food coloring. Once the switch had been made, she went back downstairs to seal the deal.

Drake and Jessie eventually made their way to the bedroom to get their freak on. After the romp, Drake read her some William Wordsworth poems before Jessie went to the bathroom. While Jessie was away, she knew Drake would pull out the Habañero bottle from the nightstand, grab the used condom from the garbage beside it, and apply the sauce.

Then, she'd ask Drake to order some late-night dessert and wait for him to go downstairs to grab it as she snuck the seeded condom into the bathroom to impregnate herself. The mix of water and food coloring would do nothing to sterilize the sperm when she poured it inside of her, and nine months later she'd hit up Drake for that fat check. Jessie's plan was aces, or so she thought.

You see, you don't ascend to the number one Spotify artist spot in the world without some wits.

Drake ain't no fool.

When Drake saw the side profile of the girl who sold him the hot sauce at Trader Joe's he had a flashback to the party at his mansion: He remembered seeing the flash of a girl's face whip around the corner when he exited the bathroom after his conversation with Future. She was moving quickly like she didn't want to be caught, but just slow enough for Drake to notice a butterfly tattoo behind her right ear, the same butterfly tattoo in the exact same spot as the Trader Joe's girl. When Jessie handed Drake the bottle of hot sauce and he spotted the same tattoo, he knew something was up.

Could she be onto my plan? thought Drake. No way this silly bitch is onto my hot sauce game, but I can't be too careful.

So, Drake called up his watch guy and had him install a hot sauce-spraying device in his Rolex, just like the one from Undercover Brother.

Hot Sauce Watch from *Undercover Brother*

Drake then planted the bottle of Habañero in his nightstand where he knew Jessie would look, but not before loading his watch with some of the sauce. Then, when Jessie wasn’t looking, he pressed his watch to discreetly spray the real hot sauce into the condom so that when Jessie snuck the rubber into the bathroom, boom, pussy roasted.

What Jessie thought was a benign mix of water and food coloring ended up being straight fire, and she paid the pussy price for it.

When Jessie dumped the contents inside of her, a hellfire of Habañero went to work on the sperm, and as a byproduct, her lady lips. She started to scream in the bathroom right as Drake returned with the dessert. He put his ear against the door knowing he was causing Jessie pain, but it was a pain she brought upon herself through deception and dishonesty.

Drake leaned closer to the door and sang through the crack to his betrayer: "I've got my eyes on you.."

Moral of the story: When you mess with what a man earns, that pussy gon' get burned.

Also, don't cross a guy who wrote the lyrics I go 0 to 100, n*****, real quick.

Now, of course, I have no idea what happened that hot sauce evening. This whole story is just a concoction of my imagination and it’s fun to run with it.

But I do know a couple of things:

Payback's a bitch.

And hot sauce keep a n***** rich.

Peace.

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