It wasn't a young-people's-party as much as it was a general-access party; the host invited many members of his family and their kids as well as coworkers and friends, so there were plenty of little scamps running underfoot. I was walking around the backyard while two girls, ages 10 and 11, were tossing a tennis ball back and forth to each other. They spotted me and started trying to toss their tennis ball into my drink, because that is what kids do. I played along, holding the cup up high and daring them to sink the ball from across the yard. I was fully confident that they wouldn't be able to come close, and gaily took a sip with every embarrassing miss.
They soon got tired of utterly failing; one of them distracted me with questions about robots while the other reached up and dropped the tennis ball directly into the cup. I pulled the ball out and took another sip, and that is when things went nuts.
You see, this particular tennis ball had recently been in the mouth of a dog that had vomited up some half-eaten sausage about fifteen minutes earlier; in the minds of these girls, that meant the tennis ball was essentially made out of dog vomit (although it looked perfectly clean, and they were happily tossing it around). They were absolutely appalled that I would drink from my alcoholic beverage after it had made contact with such a ball, even after I explained that alcohol is an excellent antibacterial agent (it helped that I played it up, saying stuff like "this tastes weird now"). Not just appalled, though -- they were impressed.
The girls immediately began running around trying to think of other gross things for me to do. Then one made the fatal error of offering to pay me $20 if I would lick the tennis ball on camera. She had just received that money from her uncle, the host, for her birthday, and I felt kind of bad taking it for such a silly stunt. However, her dad was there, and he told her that it was her money and she could do what she wanted with it. That stated, we set to negotiating terms.
She was trying to make it as gross as possible, and kept asking if she could smear the tennis ball in the vomit or some other unsavory things she'd discovered. Ultimately I decided that it was getting a little too foul even for my tastes, and it looked like she'd be able to keep her money. She and her friend decided that they would simply call me a chicken for the rest of my life, but I was unfazed. Then they said they would tell everybody at school what a chicken I was, and I was sorely tempted to avoid such a disastrous blow to my reputation. In the end, reason won out. Almost.
After we shelved the tennis ball idea, one of the girls had an even better thought: they would mix up a drink for me with whatever strange ingredients they could find in the kitchen, and if I could drink the whole thing, they'd give me $10. I agreed, on the condition that I'd be able approve whatever they put into the drink before it went in. I was feeling very sportsmanlike, so I promised only to veto things that would kill me.
A lot of people begged me not to do it. They said I was crazy. The dad asked if I was sure they weren't bothering me. But no, I was having a great time! Here's the final list of ingredients that went into my cocktail:
- Seltzer water
- V8 Splash
- Fresca
- Diet Coke
- Sprite Zero
- Vinegar
- Hot Sauce
- Chili Sauce
- Mustard
- Italian dressing
- Ranch dressing
- Almond milk
I wandered around the party with the drink in my hand, telling everybody what was in it and why I was doing it. Most of the guests were disgusted, and were certain I'd just throw it up all over the place. They even made me stand in the backyard to drink it.
I looked down into the cup; it looked like soupy, reddish ginger ale. I made sure the cameras were rolling. I asked for a countdown. And I drained the thing in a single gulp.
It tasted like oil, hot sauce, vinegar, and sugar water. It was completely delicious. Vinegar and hot sauce are two of my favorite flavors! I was basically in heaven. I immediately chased it down with a delicious piece of strawberry cake, and my $10 was in the bag.
Everyone kept asking me if I felt OK after that. People, I have never felt better. This is the magic elixir we've been looking for. These girls are going to save the world some day, and I'm glad to have been their first experiment along the way.
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