Cherry Kool-Aid wasn’t my favorite drink when I was a child. I preferred Mountain Dew. If only because it drove my mother crazy when I zapped off the ceilings and walls.

I guess this evil dude here, though, thinks it’s a form of poetic justice. Why? I didn’t know I wasn’t supposed to drink…

Well, let me just tell you this. One day my mother insisted in shopping in this Asian supermarket because she had this new recipe she just had to try out.

I was thirsty, what could I do at nine but ask her for a drink.

She bought me one.

I have no idea what it was, couldn’t even read the writing on the can because none of it was english. The pictures on the can looked like flying pigs so that was no help. Still it was cold, wet and even if it did taste a little odd, was thirst quenching.

I didn’t know then that I’d drunk evil dude’s only sample of an undiscovered, naturally growing, rocket fuel.

It seems the rocket fuel inducted itself into my genetic make-up.

Hence the cherry Kool-Aid…