Back in Fall 1993, when I was a mistreated young pledge at a social fraternity in Alabama, I got an idea. It came to me one day as ten of my goat brothers were putting out silverware on little white folded napkins next to beige plates on long wooden tables covered in white paper as part of our nightly pre-dinner ritual. I looked at the grape Kool-Aid machine as it churned the purple sugar water and sprayed it against the clear plastic wall of its holding container. Then I noticed, for the first time, that the beverage container had a lid. And I saw the large stack of cups beside it.
A voice in my head told me to piss in one of those cups and pour it into the top of the vat of grape Kool-Aid. It told me how wonderful I’d feel as I watched a bunch of assholes who’d been mistreating me for the past few months washing down their spaghetti dinner with muskrat waste over ice in clear plastic cups amid boisterous conversation and blissful ignorance. It went on to encourage me to invite other goats to pee in cups and pour their urine into the splashing drink maker.
“Yes,” I told the voice, “I will piss in the Kool-Aid, and I will invite others to do the same.” Which is exactly what we did.
It was every bit as wonderful as the voice told me it would be. In fact, I’ve been pissing in Kool-Aid ever since! I have a pitcher full 0f “special sauce” Kool-Aid in my ‘fridge right now, just waiting on the boy in the helmet from down the street.
So the next time you’re having a case of the Mondays and someone asks, “Gee wizz, dude, who pissed in your Kool-Aid?” you can reply confidently, “Why, the Muskrat did! And he totally pissed in yours, too!”
It may not brighten your day, but it certainly will mine.