Erika's Wonderful World of Carbonation

Move over Disney. Fairy godmothers no longer corner the market on magical spells. I have learned that carbonated water has it own magical powers. No wands or Bippity Boppity Boo required. Tingling effervescence, artificial sweeteners, inorganic acids, and endorphin-charged caffeine molecules are the only necessary ingredients for my potion. I am quite convinced these ingredients can not only tame the savage beast, they can calm the weary mind, cool the burning heart, and collectively restore peace to the war-ravaged soul.

Today was a brutal day at work. Horrendous actually. A couple of my colleagues seem to be confused regarding our place of employment. With all of the drama going on, one might think we work for Julliard instead of a local career college. We train nurses, not ballerinas, and with the latest additions to our cadaver lab, I highly doubt there is any room left for prima donnas. The metal bars at our school are for supporting dissection instruments, not fancy dancers who need a place to practice their croix.

After some intense "discussions" in the early part of the day, I knew a 44 ounce diet would be in order. I grabbed my purse, huffed intensely, and flung myself out the heavy glass doors with a sense of urgency and outrage. If only the doors didn't have that slow release mechanism on them. I am sure the forceful banging and subsequent shattering of the glass panels would have driven my point home. With my feisty Portuguese mannerisms and natural flare for the dramatic, maybe it is I who is confused about my place of employment. Perhaps my own talents would be better suited at a school for the arts.

When I returned to my office, the first sip of nectar was pure heaven. The pebbled ice chilled the caramelized liquid to the perfect temperature, widening my narrowed esophagus and quenching the steam that was emanating from the top of my head and through my ears. Ah, relief. I can breathe deeply again and will probably refrain from maiming anyone this day. On the other hand, it is still early...

I am no dummy. I knew when I left the campus in search of a sedative, I would have to return with reinforcements. A bribe perhaps. In addition to my oversized Diet Pepsi, I purchased a regular Coke as well. My opponents had already bent the ear of the President and I had to plan my counterattack wisely, knowing emotive speech alone would not catalyze my purpose. I needed carbonated sugar and lots of it. I placed the Coke upon my supervisor's newly polished desk (I happen to report directly to the President). With the goal of self-preservation in mind, I emphatically relayed my tragic version of the morning's events while strategically positioning myself for optimum results. As I gestured, jockeyed, and offered uncompromising ultimatums, he sat there sipping his gifted treasure with a smile upon his face. See, I told you. Magic. With the aid of a little artificially sweetened carbonation, we reached a generally amiable agreement and I left the executive suite feeling quite victorious. I returned to my main level cubicle and guzzled the remaining 35 ounces, as my extremities and cells buried beneath thanked me for my loving concern for their well-being.

An hour later I was sick as a dog, head pulsing and stomach churning ad nauseam, but that is a medical drama for another day. I am not looking forward to going back tomorrow as I will have to fight my battles without the aid of my fountain friend, but I will try my best to tough it out and bite my tongue when needed. If that doesn't work, I can always practice my pirouettes. You never can know when a working leg might lose control and accidentally align with another person's torso. It's a chance we'll just have to take.

Now that it is well after midnight, I must take my leave from ill-fated fantasies. Good night, dear friends. Thanks for listening. And sweet artificial dreams to you all.