I have a great love for the beverage which will, for the purposes of this entry, only be referred to as The Doctor.
I have partaken in other soft-drinks over the years, but my Texas residency leads me back to this particular brown surgery liquid time and time again. I have given in, and am now a 100% fan. I don’t purchase other soda. I don’t drink the competing brands unless forced by circumstances. I don’t say bad things about The Doctor.
College was the height of my caffeine binging. Late night gaming sessions with the fellows who occupied my dorm room were fuelled almost entirely by The Doctor and Sir Jack of Box’s Unsurpassable Cheeseburgers.
One day, one of my comrades remarked that he had discovered an ad from the local Brookshires advertising our favorite poison for a remarkable price. We pooled our resources and found ourselves the proud owners of a GROSS of The Doctor. There was some dickering with the store clerks about whether we could apply the discount to all of the boxes, but that was quickly dismissed when we produced the advertisement and proved that it did not say “1 per costumer.”
I provide photo evidence.
My fellow-in-arms, Christopher, would throw back these cans with such alacrity that we became convinced that he had no insides. If one were to unzip him down the front and peer into his depths, one would find merely a repository to hold soda for later, more sinister, purposes.
I can still polish off a 12 pack in a weekend, or a 2-liter in a sitting, but these are now the rare exceptions to the rule.
You see, The Doctor and I are estranged at the moment.
My caffeine addiction is broken, replaced by a nearly constant flow of a more arcane liquid into my system. (Two parts H, one part O).
Having reached my 21st revolution around the sun, more dangerous liquids entice me.
But The Doctor holds the reigns of my heart.
Live long, dear Doctor.
The Doctor and I
I have a great love for the beverage which will, for the purposes of this entry, only be referred to as The Doctor.
I have partaken in other soft-drinks over the years, but my Texas residency leads me back to this particular brown surgery liquid time and time again. I have given in, and am now a 100% fan. I don’t purchase other soda. I don’t drink the competing brands unless forced by circumstances. I don’t say bad things about The Doctor.
College was the height of my caffeine binging. Late night gaming sessions with the fellows who occupied my dorm room were fuelled almost entirely by The Doctor and Sir Jack of Box’s Unsurpassable Cheeseburgers.
One day, one of my comrades remarked that he had discovered an ad from the local Brookshires advertising our favorite poison for a remarkable price. We pooled our resources and found ourselves the proud owners of a GROSS of The Doctor. There was some dickering with the store clerks about whether we could apply the discount to all of the boxes, but that was quickly dismissed when we produced the advertisement and proved that it did not say “1 per costumer.”
I provide photo evidence.
My fellow-in-arms, Christopher, would throw back these cans with such alacrity that we became convinced that he had no insides. If one were to unzip him down the front and peer into his depths, one would find merely a repository to hold soda for later, more sinister, purposes.
I can still polish off a 12 pack in a weekend, or a 2-liter in a sitting, but these are now the rare exceptions to the rule.
You see, The Doctor and I are estranged at the moment.
My caffeine addiction is broken, replaced by a nearly constant flow of a more arcane liquid into my system. (Two parts H, one part O).
Having reached my 21st revolution around the sun, more dangerous liquids entice me.
But The Doctor holds the reigns of my heart.
Live long, dear Doctor.