The Coke shot out of the bottle like a liquid bullet hitting me square in the face. It shot up my nose and dripped down the back of my throat so quickly I didn’t have time to think! I felt Coke spray hitting all parts of my body like it was being spit out of a clogged paint gun. At the same time I felt Coke foam rolling over the knuckles of my fist onto the carpet.
Within thirty seconds the chaos ended. I pictured myself holding a crushed piece of plastic with a red label and a bit of brown liquid at the bottom, Coke dripping off of the end of my nose, my t-shirt beginning to stick to my body while standing in an ever expanding pool of Coke soaking into the carpet.
A half second after feeling at peace with the world I had shot myself in the face with an exploding bottle of Coca Cola with a whole new set of problems I could never have imagined.
Despite the fact that I had to spend the next forty minutes scrubbing Coke stain from my carpet in the middle of the night, I felt grateful.
Wull … why not? How many people get to shoot themselves in the face with a litre of Coca Cola fired from a bottle gun at close range and live to write about it?