www.whyville.net Nov 7, 2007 Weekly Issue



xo7joa7ox
Whyville Columnist

Life Lessons: No More Lemonade!

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Author's Note: Hey Whyvillians! It's xo7joa7ox here again with another crazy article, and hopefully the beginning of a new column! This column will be about a few of my interesting experiences (that I've exaggerated) and learned some interesting lessons from. Watch out for the next edition of Life Lessons sometime soon! Let me know what you think in the BBS.

One day I was sitting on the porch with my friends, searching for some refuge from the crippling heat. I figured the only refuge would be an icy beverage, so I went to the fridge and realized . . . NO MORE LEMONADE! So I rushed downstairs and grabbed 3 cans of the only beverage in there, NESTEA. I brought them outside and my friends and I drank happily. Well my friends drank happily. By that point, I was already done with my iced tea. And I realized . . . the heat was still crippling.

So I ran back downstairs and grabbed another can. Then another, and another, and another, until I realized (I was receiving many disturbed looks from my friends), I LIKED IT BETTER THAN LEMONADE! So I kept guzzling, and gurgling, and swallowing every drop of iced tea I could get my tainted hands on.

When a case was brought into the house, I slurped it down like water. When iced tea was on special, we stocked up. I just drank more, stopped less, drank, gurgled, glugged my way to addiction. Sweet addiction. I was drinking over a can a day of sweet flavoured sugary beverage. I was wrapped around the pinky finger of an icy beverage. And I LOVED it. You couldn't pry those sweet fingers from the innards of my mouth if you tried. Not even the Rock could wrestle the grip this icy coldness had on my tastebuds.

So I kept drinking it, drinking, drank, drank. Swallowed. So all this happened 2 years ago. The iced tea was just so AMAZING. Every sweet sip was like a one way ticket to paradise. Little did I know, this one way vacation would soon turn into a round trip. Drinking the seet cold tea was becoming a hobby of mine. I even punched out my sister for drinking the last one. Okay, I didn't punch her out. But I was FUMING.

And the only thing that could put out this fire was a drink of an icy tea flavoured drink. Family and friends were growing concerned. THEIR FRIEND SLASH DAUGHTER HAD AN ADDICTION! It's like the master of cold beverages had trapped me in a box van and I couldn't get out. One day, I was drinking at my computer desk, and my mother expressed her concern. At least I think she was concerned. It was hard to see her face through the concerning growling amount of cans (if concerning growling even makes sense).

I never took this warning seriously, until one day at Zehrs. We were innocently walking down the beverage asile, and guess what!

ICED TEA WAS ON SALE!

I lunged for a case but my mother held me back. She uttered the words that will forever scar me.

"No more iced tea! You leave too many cans around the house!"

I laughed. I mean, what else could I do? My eyes filled with tears, and my touchingly sad moment turned into a full blown public attraction.

I broke down. Iced tea was controlling my LIFE.

So as I layed in the beverage section of Zehrs, numerous passerbys and workers staring, with no idea how to control the pure iced tea flowing through my veins, I realized I had become a Nestea-a-holic. NA anonymous, please!

So I screamed and screamed and shook violently, as I begged for mercy from the icy monster who had such a tight grip on my mental and physical state. I begged for it to let go of me, and stop filling my taste buds with delicious paradise. I screamed and cried and shook for about an hour, but that's not the point.

The point is, you should never leave evidence of your addiction lying on your computer desk where your suspicious and all-powerful mother can see it. You WILL end up crying for mercy in the beverage aisle of Zehrs,

To a FICTIONAL CHARACTER YOU MADE UP.

Well, this is xo7joa7ox, NOT going to drink iced tea since her mother decided to crush her life.

 

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