The Sprite is Gone

Last night, as I was preparing a delicious hamburger on my filthy George Foreman grill, I reached into the fridge for a Diet Dr. Pepper and noticed something amiss.

Was it the fact I was holding a Diet Dr. Perky instead? (Hooray generics!) Was it the half-finished can of ginger ale I’d bafflingly decided to save until completion? Was it that I wasn’t reaching into a fridge at all and that my relationship with my roommate was about to get much more interesting?

No, ladies and gentlemen, there was something missing. A certain 12 ounce spawn of Satan was not to be found in its usual spot on the door of my fridge*, mocking me and all that I stand for.

The Sprite is gone.

I cannot for the life of me recall how or when it happened. Maybe my roommate drank it. Maybe my girlfriend drank it. Maybe it dissolved into a million microscopic parasites that now reside in the cracks of our floorboards, waiting for the opportunity to swarm into my ears and take control of my brain.

It’s of no concern to me. All I know is, my seemingly eternal nightmare is no more. I am in a state of complete euphoria. I have won the emotional lottery and, for the time being, reside in an alternate universe where the sky is raining love and happiness, cancer has been cured, world peace has been achieved, the Phillies are not a complete dumpster fire and Joel Embiid’s feet are indestructible rocket-powered boots instead of hastily-assembled structures made of fine china and Krazy Glue.

If you were the one who disposed of the beast, step right up and claim your prize of “anything you want.” A recent review of my bank statements seems to indicate that I do not quite have the $100,000 reward I initially offered, but I will write you a song, a post, or something else that won’t result in me losing my job or spending more than a few hours in a holding cell.

Now, to do something about that damn Hamm’s that’s been on our top shelf for seven months…

*-Some insane people might point out that the Sprite photographed in my earlier post was in the middle of the top shelf of my fridge, not (as I claim in the post) on the door of the fridge. There’s a simple explanation for this: it was easier for me to photograph the Sprite on the shelf, and it also spared you the agony of seeing exactly how filthy the door of our fridge was at the time. Rest assured, when not being moved for aesthetic purposes, the Sprite sat comfortably on the door of the fridge, occupying a spot that could have been used for better beverages.