There is darkness in this world. There is sin, and there is darkness, and there are people with rotten hearts who want to cause pain. And should this darkness cast its shadow upon you—does it mean you did something to deserve it? A sin of your own, resulting in a karmic reparation against you? It’s only up to a higher power to judge, but today we bring you a situation in which these questions shall be raised…
Earlier today, 34-year-old Joey Minchin bought a sandwich and a Snapple Peach Iced Tea at his favorite deli. But when he took his seat outside and opened up the beverage, the cap didn’t pop, raising the question Joey proceeded to shout: “Did someone tamper with my [his] fucking Snapple?!?!”
You see, when a Snapple cap doesn’t pop, it means the bottle was tampered with, or at minimum, the freshness seal was broken. While one of these options means your Snapple might taste a little off, the other could mean your Snapple was poisoned. And poison can lead to death.
Joey was faced with a stressful choice. Either he could buy another Snapple for $1.59—which would be difficult because of the scarcity mindset he developed as the child of immigrants—or he could ask the somewhat stern cashier to give him a new, untampered one—which would be difficult due to his generalized anxiety disorder.
Why, Joey wondered, did this have to happen? Was it all because he choked his mother in a dream last night? Or was it because he was the 666th like on Vampire Weekend’s instagram post this morning? As a web culture reporter, Joey has so few pleasures in a day. Eating a California club while drinking a Diet Peach Snapple is one of them. And yet, for some goddamn reason, an evil force was always fucking with him. Of course his Snapple wouldn’t pop today. His boss was out, so he had slightly more work than usual. Of fucking course the universe would test him with tampering. Was it not enough that his seasonal allergies were already in a flare?
But surely his Snapple couldn’t have actually been tampered with, right? Who would even do such a thing? And for what possible purpose? What joy could the suffering of another really bring? Joey understood how unlikely a tampering situation was. Probably something just went wrong in the bottle’s production. After all, people didn’t really put razor blades in children’s Halloween candy. But what if they did? Were there razor blades in his Snapple? He peered into the bottle: it definitely didn’t look like it had razor blades. But maybe it had razor shards? Hm.
Perhaps the contaminant would have a smell. Joey raised the Snapple to his nose and gave it a whiff. But as he inhaled, a gnat flew by his forehead, causing him to jerk his nose down into the bottle in a panic. “CHRIST!” he screamed as the potentially poisonous Snapple dripped from his nose onto his upper lip. “WHAT THE CRAP!?”
He frantically unwrapped one of the miniature 90% isopropyl alcohol wipes he’s kept in his pocket since the Covid-19 pandemic began and scrubbed his nose, desperately hoping that whatever contaminant was in his Snapple hadn’t already made its way into his bloodstream, or worse, his brain. What if there was bird flu in the Snapple? Or HIV? Or even radicchio, to which he is mildly allergic? What if he broke out in hives?! He needs an EpiPen! Someone, stab him now!
Joey stood up from the table and knew what he had to do. Yes, his generalized anxiety disorder would get the best of him, just as it did with his crush at the holiday party, just as it did with Kingda Ka at Six Flags, but it was okay. It’s what keeps him safe.
He threw out the iced tea, wrapped the rest of his sandwich, and with his tongue dry from no Snapple, he returned to his office.
