Black Nectar

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Humor  |  House: Booksie Classic

We know it's unhealthy . . . but sometimes we just go for it.

TONIC. TEMPERANCE DRINK. Inventor John Stith Pemberton only did what he did bcos he was addicted to morphine. So what does any vice do when it's still aware of its shortcomings? It seeks out a substitute. I must, therefore . . . synthesize.

Pemberton sat in front of his inglenook fireplace - brainstorming - covered in flop sweat. His light bulb-moment arrived. Time is edited accordingly. Urban legends are prime movers in any commercial venture of THIS magnitude. We just know what historians have told us. The inventor's ingenuity sky rockets into action: nature always has something to offer. So does the periodic table. With the help of a trusted apothercary - an extraction was obtained from coca leaves and kola nuts. The concentrate packs a punch: theine and COCAINE. Soda fountains across the YouEss mixed the 'black stuff' with carbonated water. And each dram sold contained nine milligams of cocaine. Customers were left . . . wide-eyed and feeling upbeat. So in nineteen12, the FDA listed Pemberton's 'panacea for fatigue' as habit-forming. Here's what, how about I replace the fresh leaves with 'spent' ones? Ah, a brew made from old tea bags. Oh, you crafty devil! Okay, now we can tick all the appropriate boxes. You are, after all . . . our new poster boy. This all happened when plugging 'street nostrums' were printed with the same font as a MOST WANTED DESPERADO!!!

Today it cleans lime scale better than caustic soda. Guidelines say DRINK IT RESPONSIBLY. Try saying that to a flakka addict. Here's your bleach. Shop with us again. You can't run around in your neighbourhood responsibly . . . if you're stark naked and breaching the peace. TASER 'im - strap him to the gurney!

Anyway it's 19seventywun. And a teevee commercial is telling us IT'S THE REAL THING. Yeah, guys, it would be really groovy if you all slowly walked up the hill, looking towards the sun. Sing the words and keep walking, you dig? Well, at least it was a hit for The Hillside Singers. The point is, the kids wearing bell-bottoms in this dreamy commercial were all gonna live in perfect harmony, drinking the most touted of all carbonated brands. When asked, the director responded: I don't care if mercury's in it. My job's to sell it. Quicksilver? It's only used for extracting high frutose corn syrup. Wouldn't that make its way into the food chain? So granddad continues to dribble in his ragged armchair, staring at the walls. ALTS-HIME-ERZ? No, no, for legal reasons . . . we just call it OLD AGE.

It really is like one of those fantasies you have when you're a spotty teenager. Back it comes to occasionally play on your mind: pint fizzing with the stuff. Fizzing to the brim - jumping up and down on the surface. Ice cubes. Sliced lemon magnified by refraction. It's a scorcher of a day in Vagas. No breeze. Hullo, says . . . your dentist! Oh, crap, what's he doing here? P'raps he won't notice your hand around the glass, ever so slightly releasing its grip. Just nod. Keep eye contact. Easy. No sudden movement. What's 'e blethering on about? Some new brand on the market. Toothpaste. Who rants about toothpaste? Motormouth. says hardly a word when you're in his waiting room. Blah-blah-blah. Christ, finally he leaves. Sits back down and points to his glass - giving you the thumb's up. Creepy bastard. Even his wife's toasting you. Goading her on, he is, nudging her shoulder. What's with the matching shirts? Pair of freaks Turn your back. Ignore them. ONLY NOW IS REAL. AUMMMMM. The. View, In. Front. Of. You. Is. Beautiful.

When three-litre bottles hit the shelves in the eighties, every boy bought one - sat on a wall and ohdeed on aspartame and its carcinogenic colorant. Adding Bacardi to it made chart music sound better. For single parents, patios doubled as dance floors - junior mortified at mom throwing shapes and busting moves.

It's all about the dollar. Share holders want their cut. So the concentrate is sold to the industry's licensed bottlers - who, in turn, wave their corporate wands. The product comes out with its iconic label. Who really knows to what degree the fairy tale image played in the blackest of all soft drinks. The challenger is in the left corner . . . the blue-can wannabe. But there's only one champ, the original fizzy bad boy!

Submitted: June 06, 2020

© Copyright 2021 Jobe Rubens. All rights reserved.

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Add Your Comments:



Excellent history lesson, Jobe. I never could stand the fizzy stuff.

Sat, June 6th, 2020 6:53pm

Sharief Hendricks

Have a coke and a smile was the moto for many years...

Nicely done Jobe...I had a good chuckle

Mon, July 27th, 2020 8:32pm

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