You’re in the Blue Room and it’s been a day, so you’re looking for a little pick-me-up. And then you see it…The fluorescent “M” emblazoned upon an ungainly black can. There it is, Monster Energy Drink: The Middle Schooler’s Cocaine.
You’ve heard the stories. You’ve read the ingredients section. But something about it causes you to throw caution to the wind and suddenly, you are cracking open a sparkling yellow abyss of caffeine and (some chemical). It’s an odd yellow, similar to the shade of dehydrated piss? You ignore this ominous sign. You are not a victim of frailty.
You throw back waves of the sweetened frosty beverage: two serving per can, my ass. With each glug, you begin to experience an increasingly heightened sense of the world around you, as well as your own body. You can feel your heart knocking at your ribs, pleading for freedom from this caffeinated prison. Droplets of sweat begin to burst through the thick skin on your lower back and you begin to quiver with anticipation of the next sip. You wipe your greasy brow and slam the can down on the table in front of you: you will not be so easily vanquished. With a quaking hand, you steady yourself and reach for the can once more.
By now, a crowd has gathered. You are a woman taking on an animal and only one can survive a bullfight. You are alone in the world now, woman and beast. There can only be one.
You peer into the can to see a final gleaming sip resting at the bottom: this is it. You stand over the can and tell it to prepare to be vanquished. As it meets with your lips for the last time, you savor the sickly-sweet vapors that escape from the tiny hole at the top..and it is gone. You have emerged victorious! You crush the can in your left fist, a sign of your physical dominance, and proceed to throw it on the ground (not even recycling like a fucking bad-ass.)
Suddenly, but not at all surprisingly, your body crumples to the ground. Sugar-induced convulsions take over your earthly form: you should’ve read the nutrition facts…
The last thing you see before becoming comatose is the shape of the fickle green “M”, discarded on the floor.
Image via Christine Wang.