Upon the drinking of the soft drink Surge for five days straight

To Whom It May Concern:

If the purpose of my life

Is to imitate a crack-addled ADD prone chimpanzee

Then the soft drink Surge would surely be the proper stock into which I could throw my life’s savings

Hands quivering like Muhammad Ali in the tenth round,

Tongue green with metallic syrup and dangerous curves from the innermost depth

Of that twelve pack of shame, be assured, shenanigans soon follow

Your innermost thoughts might become violent vomit to the ears and eyes of the unbelievers: blasphemy knows no bounds for fans of the Pepsi-cola company

Large periods of time soon lapse and lap like green waves on an atomic shore

Was it two days ago that I found myself running along the freeway, not able to stop for fear that Larry Bird would catch me?

Blasts of consciousness and rhythm guitar playing X-TREME riffs will find you in the most precarious situations.

Mexican revolutions are found to be calmer than the outcome of this jittery jalopy

That has woefully endeavored to take a bet on lime-green death squeezed from the testes of Hermes himself