Causality

Okay, so I run out of Coca-Cola at work. No quarters in my pocket,
they've been confiscated by my daughters, who don't even pretend
anymore that they need New Hampshire for their map. 'Yeah, I need
the eagle ones, too'

So I head out from work, turn right at His Purple Mountain Majesty
(Paisley Park) and pop into Target. Just need a twelve pack.
Hmmm. 12-pack:: $4.49 24-case::$5.35
Shit, I really don't need that much, on top of all the coffee,
not to mention the ritalin. Oh well.

I get back and saw the case in half with my car key. Half for work and
half for home. You can probably see where this is going, but bear with
me. As usual, I space out and forget about it in the back of the car
over the weekend, even when my wife mentions she hears something rolling
around and I pick up the can of Marvel Mystery Oil from under the seat.
Once I find, I stop looking.

This is winter in Minnesota and surprisingly, the cans didn't explode,
just bulge out in grotesque and obscene ways. CocaCola is bottled
locally and I think they go for a heavier gauge aluminum in the winter.

I tell my son to bring the soda inside to thaw while I dig under the seats
in the van rounding up strays. At least we'll have plenty of flat Coke
on hand for upset tummies when the flu season kicks in. He takes one can
from the case and wanders off. I head in later and see several opened
cans on the picnic table. Andrew has written his name in the snow, in
coca-cola. The old Irish joke comes to mind, "Sure, I'll pour a bottle of
whiskey over your grave as your last request, but do ye mind if I pass it
through me bladder first."

Later, the dog is out, sniffing the neighborhood, checking her messages,
and finds Andrew's handiwork. "Snow Cones!" She eats most of it before
I notice what's going on. This happens at 9pm and at 2am she's still
growling, pacing and twitching. Gotta remember to trim those nails.
Click, click, click.