the devil drinks Kool-Aid: a cautionary tale

I’m pretty sure I’m addicted to the internet. Nothing creepy, just basic internet. Social media, news, stuff like that. But I don’t want to think about that today because it’s a lot to think about, and I’m pretty sure I have to become Amish or Muslim or something. ANOTHER DAY.


So this thing happened, months ago, I saw this punch on Pinterest, this baby shower frothy drink punch that was all blue and had little ducks floating in it, and I thought, hey! I should make that for Han’s shower, and so I went looking for the ingredients and failed at life. First, rubber ducks cost a lot, because nowadays they all have internal thermometers and CO2 detectors and internet filters, to protect the children, but all I wanted was a cheap little duckie family to float in the frothy blue punch. I found some online, but the reviews all said “They float upside down!” which was helpful, because who wants duck-butt punch? Not me, that’s who. So I went to the dollar store and found bags of little rubber “sea animals” and I thought, this will still work. But nobody sells blue Kool-Aid anymore, I guess, so I bought purple and pink and I was thinking maybe that would work. But the only sherbet was rainbow, so I ended up with a primordial pink punch with kind of sickly sea animals and green and orange sherbet glaciers.

You know what’s great about me? I keep trying. Take that, Pinterest.

But I had all these leftover grape Kool-Aid packets that I hid from my children, because maybe they eat chicken nuggets three times a week, but doggone it, they are not having Coke and Kool-Aid. If you grew up in Conroe, you saw all the teen moms with their infants and their baby bottles full of sugar drink, and you judged them. So I have kept that standard. But today, they found it and they raised their voices in unison and begged and I gave in. Somewhere between inhaling a kilo of grape dust and pouring AN ENTIRE CUP OF SUGAR in the pitcher I had the thought that I was doing something insane, but I carried on, and delivered it to Toby and Brynn.

The first sip was like a revelation. Their faces lit up, and I knew they would never dwell in the Garden again. SO DEWICIOUS, Brynn said. SO, SO DEWICIOUS. My turkey vegetable stew, my homemade cornbread, forgotten. There was only Kool-Aid.

Within 3 minutes, Toby had lost his pants and was flying from couch to couch, laughing hysterically, and Brynn was running in manic circles around the house, counting in really questionable Spanish. “Guys!” I kept saying, like one of those weaklings on SuperNanny, “Guys, come on. Come on, guys.” “BLAPPPPP ITY OOOOOOOOOEEEEEE AAAAAAAAAAAAHH!” they replied, crashing into the wall and then to the floor, laughing while Tristan stared in amazement.

Eventually, it ended. I found myself in a fetal position in the doorway, clutching a rosary. May this evil never visit our land again, Amen.

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5 thoughts on “the devil drinks Kool-Aid: a cautionary tale

  1. Sandi says:

    Ha Ha. We don't have Cool Aid in Australia, but I feel like getting some just to see the effect!

    Like

  2. Christin says:

    I just read this out loud to my sisters because I kept snickering at the computer and they wanted to know what for. We all got a good laugh out of it! Hilarious!!

    Like

  3. AMEN!!! Thank the Good LORD it wasn't RED!!

    Like

  4. I laughed so hard I snorted. Thanks. And duck butt punch is really gross, I agree.

    Like

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