He grinned. “Great song, ain’t it?”
I nodded. “Sure. Not much Hendrix that sucks.”
He bounced his head in rhythm. “Damn straight. You know this one? ‘Voodoo Chili.'”
“…uh…what?”
He pronounced it ‘chili,’ like the food.
See, the song is ‘Voodoo Chile,’ as in ‘child,’ not ‘chili’ as in pass the water my mouth is on fire.
