The Evil That Is The Bottle Top

Oh jeez, I’m struggling for the words to even begin to tell you how much hatred I am feeling right now.

The absolute highest height of all frustration. Beyond anything the rubik’s cube ever offered. Beyond anything people who walk slowly ever offered. A whole new level of evil.

So, here’s a scenario for you:

You are partaking in some sort of traditional dancing to some sort of high-tempo techno music. Seeing as you are dancing as wildly and energetically as I would, you begin to tire. You find yourself thinking about the condensation that is gathering on your ice-cold bottle of Dr Pepper in your hyper-modern portable fridge freezer. You fantasize uncontrollably about the sweet, sweet taste of the caffeinated, sugar-filled goodness. You are absolutely dying for a drink, basically.

So, you want a drink. You get out your drink. You stare lovingly at it for a split-second, and turn the lid. Turn. The. Lid.

Holy crap, why the holy smegging hell won’t my smegging bottle smegging open.

You find yourself in the most frustrating situation ever. It’s right there. LIQUID. You find you’ve never wanted anything more than to get into the bottle. You have to have it.

And the goddamn bottle top is too selfish and stubborn to get the hell out of your way. It sits there between you and happiness, laughing in your face.  I hate that little bastard.

The purpose of a bottle top is to keep a bottle closed. That’s all it has to do, sit there. Until, one day, someone like you comes along, wishing to quench their thirst. Then, the big moment. The one thing a bottle top is required to do other than sit around on top of a bottle.

Get the holy fuck off of the bottle.


Look at him, and his evil little pink eyes.  He thinks he’s so smart, keeping the contents of your bottle all to himself. He ain’t moving. Well, you know what’s funny? If you tie an elastic band around a bottle top, you can open it with ease. Like takin’ candy from a baby. (Oh, how I have longed to say that.) You, Mr Bottle Top With Pink Eyes, are a goner.


Ha, he didn’t like that.


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