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The Titanic, the Hindenburg, and Val's 44 oz Diet Coke walk into a bar.
The Titanic says, "I'll have water, without any ice."
The Hindenburg says, "I'll have half a glass of oxygen, please. It's a good mixer for my hydrogen."
Val's 44 oz Diet Coke says, "I'm feeling torn. I'll just have an empty cup."
No. That's not a very good joke. In fact, it's not a joke at all. It's an elaborate set-up to relate what happened to Val on Monday, when she arrived home with her 44 oz Diet Coke.
Imagine a disaster being averted at the last minute. What if the Titanic had been hauling a bunch of those inflatable rafts, and they all blew up at the moment of iceberg impact...and plugged the rift in the hull? What if the spark that lit up the Hindenburg was as fickle as the spark that survivor people finally make while trying to start a fire...and fizzled out immediately?
You're dying to hear the WHAT IF concerning Val's 44 oz Diet Coke, aren't you? That's the whole purpose of this story! Good for you! Thanks (in advance) for keeping up!
I had a lot of items to carry into the house on Monday. I had stopped by Save A Lot for bananas, sour cream, pickles, a dozen eggs, and a bag of Loaded Baked Potato Chips. I had shopped at Country Mart for lotion, Pepper Jack slices, Sharp Cheddar slices, blueberry frozen waffles, and Lifesavers Wint O Green mints.
Disembarking from T-Hoe inside the garage, I draped my purse, loaded with the mail (and lottery tickets!) over my right arm. All the way to the elbow. Then the three plastic bags of those groceries. I had a small purple bubba cup of ice water that I tucked into the crook of my right forearm and side-boob area. I held the keyring with the house key singled out between my right index finger and badfinger...and I grasped the bottom of my 44 oz Diet Coke with my right hand.
That left my left hand free for closing T-Hoe's passenger door, pushing the garage door button for closing, opening the people-door doorknob to get out of the garage, pat my Sweet, Sweet Juno on the head, ruffle Puppy Jack's flappy ears, give each dog a pinch of cat kibble, hold onto the rail to ascend the four porch steps, and be ready to take the house key and unlock the kitchen door.
I made it all the way to the corner of the house. I was right beside Juno's dog house on the back porch. Four steps from the kitchen door...when it happened. My top-heavy 44 oz Diet Coke started to tip to the right. I was holding the narrow stub at the bottom. My right arm was so laden that I could not move it fast enough to adjust for the tippage. I did NOT want to lose my precious elixir! I squeezed the foam cup to hold on, and
MY THUMB WENT THROUGH THE FOAM!
I won't say that my life flashed before my eyes. But I WILL say that the carnage when the same thing happened with my Sonic Route 44 Diet Cherry Coke many years ago DID. And I had made it another step closer to the door that time.
But wait! Karma and Even Steven were with Val on Monday. She sure gets a lot of mileage out of turning in a found $5 bill! My caffeinated ambrosia was still mostly intact! Yeah! The pressure from that column of Diet Coke pushed that poked-in flap of foam back to seal the hole. Mostly. Take a look!
Sure, some squeezed out the X in the lid. But only DROPS were leaking out the thumb hole!
See it there? The slice from where Val poked in her thumb? It has sealed itself! Val wasn't taking any chances on that, though! No siree, Bob! Even if only a few drops seeped out every hour, that was still a few drops that Val would not be able to sip at her leisure, well into the evening.
I went inside, where I just happen to keep a couple of spare 44 oz cups in sizes from all my different dispensaries in order to double-cup and double-insulate my pampered beverage. I poured my Diet Coke into a fresh 44 oz cup, and used that damaged one as the insulator. Problem solved!
If only the Titanic and the Hindenburg had been so lucky.