88 Crabapples for Pepsi Jazz
It happened at the Store 24 (or, as I often say, the Sto' Twenty-Fo').
I was minding my own business, being thirsty, as I walked my radicool, liquid-hankerin' self to the drink cases. I decide that I want something awesome, something different and new, something that is not Fresca, and not Arizona Green Tea, and not any ol' brand of bottled water.
And then. AND THEN. And then it happened.
I reached for Pepsi Jazz: Strawberries and Cream.
What is Pepsi Jazz: Strawberries and Cream, you ask (nicely)?
Well, Pepsi Jazz: Strawberries and Cream is this...
b. offensive to humanity-at-large
c. a mixture of carbonation, sucralose, dogfood, Assorted Berry Tums, caramel-color, water, ester of wood resin, Red Dye #5, and pure devil-inspired sin.
After drinking three sips of the aforementioned poison, I scolded myself fiercely.
But see, I knew it was going to suck. I just thought that because it so obviously sounded and looked like it would taste like asshole-and-fishsauce-and-berries, that it might possibly be good.
I am NO LONGER (mark my words) giving ANYTHING the benefit of the doubt.
Rule of Thumb: If you look like you suck and you walk (sit in the cooler) like you suck, you, well, suck.
F you, Pepsi Jazz; my tastbuds are pissed.