The cold I came down with on Friday ended up sticking around for most of the weekend, which was both pleasant and welcomed. After a couple nights of fitful sleep marked by coughing fits and early morning cursing, my lovely wife came back from Target yesterday with a bottle of Robitussin for me. Cherry flavored.
I tell you, they haven’t made many strides in improving the taste of that stuff since I was a kid. It was like cherry Kool-Aid spiked with thickened cat piss.
It seemed like it worked well enough. I didn’t cough as much last night, though my sleeplessness and the accompanying swearing did continue. However, I was forced to savor a slimy film of this filthy nectar in my mouth throughout the night. I tried gulping down water to drown out the awfulness, but these efforts were to no avail. All night I lay in bed in flavor-agony as the foul cherry flim made itself comfortable in the substantial crevasses beneath my tongue and behind my gums. Stupid Robitussin.
What kind of name is Robitussin anyway? It sounds like the villain from a science fiction movie starring Vin Diesel and Judi Dench that would somehow gross $18 million dollars in its opening weekend.
P.S. Tonight, on a hunch, I’m going to try making a cocktail out of Robitussin and some peppermint schnappes. We’ll see how that goes.
You know…somebody found my blog by performing the following Web search:
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Thought you would appreciate that. Well, no I didn’t really think you would.
That enrages me.