You’re “Boss” and it’s hard to go wrong, but be warned: the suicides recall solar flares. Hots are ideal: They’ll get your internal furnace going without burning down the whole place. And the service is tops.

From the walls, gangster legends Lucky Luciano, Meyer Lansky, Sam Giancana and others dare you to pick “suicide” and “x-hot” from the list of 17 flavors. The former are like sociopath Joe Pesci in “Goodfellas,” the latter more like just-hot-tempered James Caan in “The Godfather.” Moist Towelette Brand: Fresh Nap.

You can order over the phone or through bulletproof glass at this Jefferson Park wingery. It’s mostly take-out, though there are two tables and 10 chairs. There’s not much difference between the hot and extra hot wings, but both of them walk with a justifiably cocky strut.

From the name, you’re thinking bangers and mash – and you’re right – but the secret is the wings. They’re like a friendly campfire, warm with some jumping sparks. No multiple choice here; they’re just “Buffalo Wings,” but they do the name justice.

At this antlers-and-flat screens sports saloon, there’s no multiple choice -- it’s “hot wings” or no wings. I like the confidence. They come with a fair amount of sauce and are hunky dory. Mind, hot wings are not the place’s emphasis. They’re more side player than frontman, but you can dig the licks.

The rhyming “Wings n Things” name is quite popular -- none of the three places surveyed are related to each other. This place’s menu says it’s the original. There are clocks showing the times in Huntington Beach, Buffalo and Marzen. Buffalo’s presence is felt: there’s Sabres and Bills stuff everywhere, and it’s a meeting place for Bills fans with a “Bills Backers” T-shirt for sale to prove it. It promises “Original Buffalo Style Chicken Wings.” That may be true, but I can’t say for certain -- I’ve never been to Anchor Bar. I get a small order (10 for $7.25) and choose a Spaten Marzen from a list with your usual domestics and a surprising number of German brews. The wings are small but saucy, nice and crispy … the thermostat rises slowly on the tongue. Pleasant, but not exceptional. Moist Towelette Brand: Qualite.

It’s mostly a cash ‘n’ carry place, a shame considering the mural inside of people including Ray Charles, Stevie Wonder, Prince and Whitney Houston dining there. I order 10 hots. They come with a roll (bonus points). There are also deep-fried veggies (broccoli, zucchini, etc.), but I abstain. The wings are OK, not that hot for “hot.” They’re fried and the meat is too dry.

If not for the Dodgers swag, you might think you were in Arkansas. It feels like it fell through a wormhole into Burbank, and I want to like it. It is, if the menu is to be believed, “Where people go when they’re hungry for good food” and home to “America’s #1 Hot Chicken Wings.” Alas, no. “The Old Runny Nose, Sweat on the Forehead Sauce” fulfills neither of its promises and is in scant supply besides. But they do know how to serve a cold beer -- the Pyramid arrives in frosty perfection.

The place is covered in beer decorations but there’s no beer yet -- they’ve recently moved from their previous location down Jefferson Boulevard a bit and are waiting for the license to transfer. Lots of NBA bobbleheads around. The #4 provides 12 wings, fries, carrots, celery and a roll for $8.50. They’re runt wings and the menu illustrations exaggerate the sauce’s heat: the hots have a toddler’s kick. Heat seekers will need at least suicides, perhaps doubles or triples. Moist Towelette Brand: Qualite.

The archetypal “Pour Some Sugar on Me” sports bar’s wings aren’t as saucy as the game-day atmosphere. The extra hots are too polite. But if there’s a game you want to see on Tuesday, go: There are 25-cent wings and $2.50 “Wheel of Beer” pints.

You can’t order any less than 12, and all 12 have to be the same flavor. After 12, it’s 16, 50, 75 and up. I’ve found that most wing-centric places will let you try up to 2 flavors with an order of 12, and the inflexibility is disheartening. I order the hots: When they arrive, they’re scrawny. The sauce is almost admirable. The fries are bland. I also tried the spicy bbq wings -- the heat bullies the tang, though there is a nice hint of mustard. The best thing about my visit was the Negra Modelo. Unjustifiably popular. Moist Towelette Brand: Winner’s.

It’s a spare pizza joint with some seating; probably does more pickup and delivery business. The wings are served on a large pizza tray. They’re crispy but unremarkable. I reckon they’ll do if you live nearby and need your wing fix in a hurry.

Had to visit this chain because, hey, who doesn't love a zip line? The 911 sauce is another novelty item. I order the hots. The meat is wonderfully tender, maybe the most fall-off-the-bone I've had during this adventure, but the sauce is anemic. Moist Towelette Brand: Hooters.

I sample the Atomic sauce before ordering. It’s a novelty thing, but the people who like putting lighted matches in their mouths might want to know that it’s more Pyongyang technology than Los Alamos. There are 9 flavors, and an order of 10 lets you try two of them. I get hot (dull) and cajuns (not bad). The chain with a bazillion locations claims that “… A Billion Wings Later, We’re Still Winging It.” “Winging it” is about right.

The sign outside boasts “Teba Saki” chicken – FuRaiBo’s wings. They come sans sauce -- it's powdered spice -- and topped with sesame seeds. The "extra spicy" barely registers. The ones I tried were tiny and fried either at too high a temperature or for too long, or maybe both.