In the bravest thing I have done since jumping out of a plane, I purchased Lester's Fixins Bacon Soda in order to actually drink it.
Taking one whiff of the open bottle warns you that you have strayed too far down a darkened path that you are not prepared for. As I took my first sip, the cranky hillbillies that live in the nether-regions of my throat came up and grabbed my taste buds and insisted that they squeal like a pig.
That's right, this soda mouth-raped me, and after only 3 sips, I blacked out. When I came to, the bottle had mysteriously vanished, presumably run off to find its next victim. I will be attending survivors meetings for years to come.
1/10
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