01 April 2006

I should write ad copy; I have a gift!

Peemil has been exposed to Dr. Pepper, and he doesn’t like it. No Sir, not one bit. Being an Australian, I suspect he was expecting a beer, rather than the sickeningly sweet, heavily caffeinated, carbonated prune-juice beverage he was served. And when you put it that way, who can blame him?

But when one’s goal is to create a pack of high-velocity children in order to maximize entropy at a wake (such as knocked over caskets and the like), Dr. Pepper is just the thing to give them, since, unlike crack, it is not illegal to give to kids.

So that is why I bought a case of the stuff; to liven up the Grandparents’ wake. There was way too much sobbing and shrieking, what with them both dying at the same tine.

Grand-dad Flannery had gone quietly in his sleep, but Grandma died hard, screaming “Wake up, you old coot; you’re in the wrong lane!”

In order to lighten the mood, I gave a few bottles of “liquid crack” to each of the kids and filled the empty spaces in the caskets with candy; making “coffiñatas”, if you will.

And these kids caught on fast! After tipping over Grandpa’s coffin there was no stopping them. It may have been a wee bit rough on the other bereaved families (this was a largish funeral home; lots going on), but my goal was achieved and the kids made out like bandits; getting candy at the Flannery gig and a nice collection of watches and jewelry from the others.

This sort of thing is why Americans drink the stuff; the flavour evokes a flood of childhood memories of happier times.

And that's the way I likes it.