I am in some pain so I will write to forget about it and fly away. Some of you call it therapy!
It was a day for orange Kool-aid in a glass picture with Elvis on it. It wasn't enough to just mix it up. It was a procedure worthy of attention to detail like nothing else. The package of orange tapped vigorously in order that the contents would not be wasted. Poured into the picture with care and delight. Sugar; measured as if it were gold. A cup. Not one bit more, nor skimped on in haste. I procured my special slotted spoon to twirl the contents as water was introduced slowly and deliberately. Maximum effort towards perfection. The only way orange Kool-aid should ever be attempted. Around to the right and hold. Around back to the left and hold again. This done to insure proper dilution. A special treat to quench like nothing else can. To the source of thirst this batch of pure love will go. After settling it’s spin, observed for purity and beauty, I briskly take that wonderful ice cup placed in the freezer and approaching frozen impeccability, into hand and prepare to pour. It is so pretty so splendid in its posture. After all, it is orange. The best flavor. Grape is good but comes in a distant second to orange. As the fluid cascades into the cold receptacle, I feel its healing powers begin to explode in my mind. How wonderful this shall taste. I pause. I clear my thoughts and behold the cup as it approaches the object of its purpose. My throat can not wait. Come to me. Come in and heal me. I open myself to you as if a lover. You can’t harm me, only make me feel contented. That first swallow is so intense. Drinking orange Kool-aid is such a reward. I feel as if a king. Me and my orange Kool-aid, drawn from a glass picture with Elvis on it. I can now proceed with life.