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Cola Wars
I am not a sickly person. The last time I got sick was a little over a year ago when I mysteriously got mono at about the time I got a girlfriend. Now that I’ve been a single guy for the better part of a year, I have been able to avoid contact with germs and what have you, thereby avoiding illness altogether.
However, last Tuesday, I woke up feeling absolutely drained. I was fatigued and sort of nauseous, but I went along with my day and these symptoms wore off. I figured that I had dodged the bullet, but I was wrong. The next three days were a living hell.
It literally hurt to move any muscle on my body. It’s like I was laid out on one of those medieval torture tables and stretched until the muscles on my appendages were just lifeless masses of jelly. I had a fever and, much to my chagrin, there wasn’t one aspirin in the house.
Now, some might say that I have the flu. My theory is way more fun.
I’ve been watching the History and Discovery Channels lately, and they tell me that people who are possessed by demons have a history of waking up completely worn out and bruised, as if they were literally fighting with their demons while they slumber. Is it any coincidence that for the past week, I have been having non stop dreams about my new arch nemesis, soda pop? I’m not saying that I am possessed by the ghost of John Pemberton or anything, but it certainly would explain a lot.
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