Pepsi can IED
High fructose corn syrup, juvenile diabetes, juvenile dismemberment,
people who care enough to recycle, a partner who enjoys spontaneity,
romantic roadside fires and spending quiet nights at home curled
up with a dog-eared CIA training manual.
Freedom, root canals, the war crimes of Mr. Pibb, being confused
with an IUD, German shepherds, stuck-up pentagon robots and
the American pronunciation of aluminium.
I got to be the BEAST Page 3 Improvised Exploding Device:
As you can no doubt tell, I was once a modest vessel of delicious
cola; I had no complaints. After that everything went downhill.
I was in and out of trouble with the law; I got kicked around
from one Ali to another. It seemed like nobody wanted anything
to do with me – until I was carefully packed with [bomb
making ingredients redacted] and there you have it: Again I
had a destructive purpose.
Plans: Nothing! I mean, this is it for me; it’s
not like I can be returned for deposit at this point, look at
me. Yup, no going back now. Hopefully I’ll wind up lodged
in the head of a journalist – people love that. The choice
of a neural degeneration! OK, that was pretty bad.
I’d Like to be Remembered: As an exploding device
that lived by the seat of its pants and inexpensively struck
terror into the hearts of the most powerful military in the
world - that and the time I set Michael Jackson’s hair
on fire. Also, to toot my own horn, perhaps as a poignant symbol
of the dangerous ways in which clashing civilizations can adopt
and reinterpret each other’s cultural icons, or something.