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.

Looking back?

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?

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