Lay It, Don't Spray It

Most of you know that Mrs. Hillbilly Mom enjoys a good Diet Coke every now and then. In fact, she enjoys a 44 oz Diet Coke fountain soda every day, along with a 20 oz bottle* of the hard stuff. At night, I pour the bottled Diet Coke into the remains of the day's 44 oz fountain Diet Coke, to make it extra DietCokeier.

Monday night, around 11:30, I left my dark basement lair and entered the dark basement. I have two lamps over by my OPC (Old People Chair). I walked over to the other side of the stairs, where the lamp light barely reaches, and wrestled two 20 oz bottles of Diet Coke from that plastic six-pack thingy, to put in the basement mini fridge. I try to keep three cold ones in there, lest I forget to replace them as I used them. Usually, a good twist or two in opposite directions from each other will free the bottles from the holder.

I was having a little trouble, that new six-pack I'd bought only that day at The Devil's Playground seeming exceedingly tight. I had the pack laid on its end, on Genius's old desk, twisting the top two bottles. Then I heard a weird noise.

I'm kind of jumpy in the basement late at night in the semi-darkness. I tried to tell myself that it was just the rustling of the plastic Devil's Playground bags kind of strewn around the desk. I'm a slob. And a chicken. What if it was a critter walking around under the plastic bags? Maybe a millipede! I hate those things, and we've found three of them in the basement over the years. Or what about a mouse? We've had two of those. They're not as scary. Surely it wasn't a snake!

I stopped what I was doing to listen. To see if the noise continued. Maybe I was just hitting those bags with the edge of the bottles. Nope. The noise kept on. Kind of a hiss. Then I felt it! Wetness! On my left hand! What in the Not-Heaven? What was--

OH!

One of the 20 oz bottles had sprung a leak! I thought the lid was not on right. That it was coming loose, and the shaking of the bottle as I twisted had made it foam. I wrenched that left bottle free, and rushed to the NASCAR bathroom. Of course my elbow would not flip the light switch on. A NASCAR basement in the interior of a dark basement lair with no windows is black as night at 11:30 p.m.

I finally dropped the bottle in the sink, and got the light on by using my forearm. Sweet Gummi Mary! The lid on that bottle was fine. But there was a pinhole near the top that was spraying my precious magical elixir. I tried to recreate the sight for you.

Of course, this was the next morning, on a dreary day, on the back porch instead of the NASCAR bathroom, using water instead of Diet Coke. The slightest pressure sent the water squirting out that pinhole. And this was sink water from our well, not even carbonated!

I'd cleaned up the Diet Cokey mess the night before, and the only thing slightly damaged was two sheets of Genius's special resume paper. I don't think he's going to be needing it, since he has signed a contract and starts a real job on January 8. The worst damage was to my tender psyche, seeing my precious magical elixir swirling down the drain.

I cry shenanigans! I think somebody must have sabotaged my soda! I've never had a bottle develop a pinhole like that.

The Universe sure is a practical jokester.
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*Looks like you only get 16.9 ounces in a 20 oz bottle these days!
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