Sunday, April 13, 2003

Dear Ms. Yee,

Your tapioca coconut freeze tastes like, how do I put this delicately, SHIT. What should I do?

Thirsty in Evanston

Dear Thirsty,

Suck it down and cry me summa those sweet, hot tears.

JY

When I handed the plucky deliveryman my 4.50 a few hours ago, gentle reader, I expected a freeze unlike any other I’ve tasted. I expected happiness in a cup on par with–perhaps surpassing, even–their pineapple and kiwi freezes.

Upon taking my first drag of coconut freeze, however, I discovered that the stuff tasted abominable. With altruism flowing from my heart like you wouldn’t believe, I proffered some to George. Now George is usually open-minded about foods and the like, so when he voiced his utter disgust, I felt a little better. And then, like some ascetic’s doobie, the cup o’ fun went over to Esther, who praised it as lacking all taste. I brought the cup to its final destination–Carl’s room–and Carl actually refused to drink any, instead asking me whether I was ingesting some kind of paste (as I used to do through all of grade school, naturally).

So what did this drink lack? Taste, for one thing, along with aesthetic appeal. The freeze truly lacked all taste, and I wondered whether the scoundrels who made this crapola simply put ice and milky water into a cup. Visually, the treat resembled rat droppings framed against a white, white sky. Oh, the humanity! I will now proceed to:

1. Vomit

2. Cry myself to sleep.