Guaranaca Antarctica

Guaranaca Antarctica

Buck's keen nose is about to lead him astray.

Alas, cries Buck, I have been slain by poison!

But it had such a great name, laments Buck.
How could it lay me low?

"Buck!" I cry, "What happened?"

What's here? A cup, closed in my true love's hand?
Poison, I see, hath been his timeless end.

Oh man, never has a name so cool been betrayed by something so foul. It smells and tastes like over-the-top bubble gum soda because that all it is. Incredibly foul bubble gum soda. Maybe, just maybe, this stuff is raspberry flavored. Either way, it's awful.

I mean seriously, what's antarctic about this? It doesn't taste like penguins, or desperate heroism, or secret subterranean caves full of seals. I detect no hints of blood and ice, of wintry wastes, of glaciers slowly crawling to the sea. Instead, it tastes like Professor William Dyer's six month old under garments, if they were made of candy floss and sad children.

The sad thing is that not only is this soda horrible, but it's as common as dirt. All the stores around my house sell the stuff. I'd tried it years ago and was just as disgusted then. My in-laws precious gift of "novelty sodas" isn't novel in this isolated case.

I took three drinks, can't finish it. Not as bad as the Brainwash crap, but somehow even less drinkable. There was a shit-tastic macho quality to drinking the Brainwash soda, this Antarctica stuff hasn't even that slight redeeming factor.

Without you, Buck, there is nothing left in this mortal realm.
I'm coming to join you in the great beyond.