How I Found Jones Soda

I was alone. In Chicago. It was hot. I was thirsty. I actually wasn't all alone, but the people I was with were female (I am male), and they were shopping in the dumb ass stores in downtown Chicago, forcing me to remain outside in the blistering heat waiting. And waiting. Screw them, I thought, I'm going to get something to drink. However, when I looked around at my surroundings, clothing stores and scowling, sweaty faces were all I could see. Then, across the street, down the block, on the corner of fuck off and die, I saw the vessel that brought me to Jones Soda - although I didn't know this at the time. All I knew was that it was a Walgreen's, and that it might have some Hawaiian Punch. So I trek towards it, shoes melting to the paving stones as I sallied forth down the sidewalk, then across the street. With one last leap from in front of a speeding FedEx delivery truck, I burst into the Walgreen's, eyes scanning for the drinks coolers. The crowd, however, conspiring against me so they could watch me turn to dehydrated dust, blocked my view, causing me to blindly stumble around the store, in search of my Hawaiian Punch. In a now-delirious state, I ended up in the chip aisle, and when I realized what all that salt would do to me in this condition, I reeled backwards, ending up leaning against the far wall of the store. I had to get out of there, I thought. This is no place for human beings. I looked left - the escape was blocked by a large black woman trying on fingernail polish, and I knew there was no getting though that. I looked straight ahead - only to see a lover's quarrel at the plastic flowers display; equally as impassable. With my back against the wall, my only hope was to run as fast as I could to the right, and hope that there was a door in that direction, somewhere. So I turned to make haste, only to run into the drinks cooler. Pleasant, I thought, and proceeded to then locate a bottle Hawaiian Punch to nourish my tortured being. Before I got to the juice sections, though, I noticed an odd array of clear bottles with brightly colored innards; the bright colors is what caught my attention, you see, for when you are reduced to a raw, primitive state of being such as was I, your basic senses are the only utilities still operating. I felt the cold of the drinks cooler, then saw the colors of these strange bottles. Fascinated and fixated, like an insect drawn to light, I approached the bottles and picked up a gleemingly blue one. "Jones Soda," the bottle said, and had a picture of a little demon smiling at me on the label. Slowly, subconsciously, I began to regain higher mental functions, as I read further. The side of the label said that Jones Soda was a company who fancied themselves as the little guy, and that they wanted to make a good product for good people. That sounds sensible, I thought, and the demon seems to agree; in fact, it seems like a company I would like to work for, if they, in fact, needed another creative and reliable marketing person with database, website, advertising and project management experience. Offend by my own shameless, self-promoting thoughts, I looked again at the blueness contained within the bottle I held. It looked inviting, like Windex shimmering in the sun. I now focused through the bottle, at the other grey-labeled containers in the cooler. Returning the blue bottle to its place, I noticed that these Jones people also saw fit to bottle anti-freeze, vodka, urine, Kool-Aid and some dark liquid, which may or may not be a color of the rainbow. I had a sudden impulse to grab one of each, until I noticed that they weren't all sporting images of the underage-antichrist. Now past the shock of color-variety, I proceeded to investigate each label on the Jones Soda bottles - every one was different. I kept taking them out of the cooler and putting them on the floor, because I wanted to see all these labels. Then a foggy thought struck me - I remember reading something about that, somewhere, maybe in a dream. I happened to have a bottle of vodka in my hand, so I raised it to eye level so I could inspect its grey label more closely. What I found there was what I thought I had only dreamed about "send us a picture, and if we like it, we'll put it on a label." Something to that effect was printed there in black and grey. What a nice idea, and all these bottles are proof of it. it was now that I decided I had to get more serious about purchasing a bottle or two, for I was not only getting thirsty, but also drawing disgusted stairs from the passers-by who seemed to be disturbed by the fact I standing in an isle surrounded by colorful pop bottles, like I was protruding above a Crayola crayon box. After replacing and facing the joneses on their proper shelves, I grabbed bottle of vodka, code-named "vanilla cream soda" in my right hand, a bottle of that peculiar dark liquid they called "root beer" in my left hand, and then convinced a bottle of lime-lemon anti-freeze to hover next to me as I made my way to the check out line. The transaction occurred without incident, luckily, and after exiting the store and returning to my perch of the doomed shoppers-assistant, I twisted off the cap of the cream soda and drank. And drank. And drank more, until it was gone. The awe I experienced in the cooler isle had temporarily repressed my immense thirst, but now that the moment was over and I was in real time, the thirst returned. Feeling like a crash victim who, taking advantage of an unnoticed surge of adrenaline lifts a wrecked car off a trapped child, but who then cannot even lift a pen to sign their name to the police statement once everyone is free, I needed to drink, and drink more. I opened the bottle of lime-lemon soda and, just as I was finishing the last neon-green drops, my shopping friends approached, loaded with bags. I told them of my epiphany in the Walgreen's, and even showed them the empty carcasses of the Jones Soda bottles sitting next to me, but they would have none of it. "let's go get some Pepsi," they said. "None for me thanks," I replied. "The demonboy and myself will have some more Jones Soda."

JONES SODA webring
This Jones Soda Webring site owned by Brian.
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