Kids can be so childish. So helpless. So unsimianlike.
Today, for example, the varsity academic team was gifted with a two-liter bottle of soda. They are always jonesin' for snacks after school, before practice. Many a day has found my colleague, NotACook, running them out of the teacher workroom. Because it's for teachers, you see. Not students. There's some glitch in the wording of teacher workroom that stumps these future Einsteins. They find it synonymous with student lounge. With the recent crackdown, the geniuses gave the workroom a wide berth this afternoon.
One of the teachers proffered the potent elixir. The school only sells sugar-free soda to students, you see. And this boon was akin to Kirstie Alley finding herself locked alone in hotel salon with a gourmet smorgasbord.
There was only one problem. Nobody could get the lid off the bottle. Seven people tried. Seven people failed. The four varsity academic team members were at a loss. What could they possibly do to liberate the liquid from its plastic tomb? One, who may or may not have been my #1 son, suggested throwing the bottle up in the air and watching it explode upon impact with the parking lot. Cooler female heads prevailed, however, and such carnage was averted.
Still, there was no viable solution forthcoming. The pride of academia gazed longingly at their captive catnip. It's a good thing they were not chimpanzees at a termite mound. No stick or blade of grass would have seemed toolworthy to this crew.
Arch Nemesis felt their pain. Taking pity, she stabbed the bottle with a pair of scissors. Black gold! Missouri public-school tea! Their treasure was free for the tippling. The last image I saw upon exiting the building was a lass hefting that bottle skyward, turning it on its side, and sucking soda through the scissor-hole.
Too bad nobody consulted me. My idea was to stab the bottle with an ink pen, then use the clear plastic tube as a straw. Mrs. Hillbilly Mom is never shy about making a monkey of herself.