|Okay, so John and I are in the middle of Virginia somewhere...or maybe even North Carolina at this point, and he has to piss. So we stop at some gas station off 95. Some of the lights are on, but not most so its dark. There is a car getting gas and three more parked in the parking lot of the 7-11, or WaWa or Kwik-E-Mart, or whatever.|
Inside, I'm looking for weird stuff like I always do in road stops ( I have this possibly ill-conceived notion that roadstops will always produce the weirdest local goods--vis-a-vis candy, drinks, chips, etc.)---It normally works, I have found some really weird freakin' flavors of pork rinds. Anyway, so I searching searching searching and I come upon this:
It isn't a bottle, but it isn't a can. What the hell?!
So I buy it, its only a dollar, and my god, it actually tasted good.
The apple was super present and on first sip, the coolness of it doubled the good tastingness.
Then I took another sip, and gave John one. He told me I'd get cancer from drinking it.
I had another sip, this weird aftertaste started to develop. I can't pinpoint what exactly it was, but it was sort of like a souring apple. Either way, I downed the bottle/can---the cottle---and went about my merry business.
Look for this stuff, everyone needs a cottle in their life