An ode to Full Throttle Fury energy drink...
This morning, I woke up, my brain on hold,
My joints were stiff, I was feeling so old.
But I planned ahead, I knew I'd need gas,
A little something to kick my sad ass.
Last night at White Hen, I went to the back,
Where energy drinks were lining the rack.
Vitamin Water, Red Bull, and Rockstar,
So many are crap, some taste like pure tar.
There in front of me, a can in jet black,
You'd helped me before to get my day on track.
Full Throttle's your name, with a citrus taste,
You gave my day zip, got rid of the haste.
But, behold on your left, what's this I see?
A can in red? A new you called Fury?
I'm a marketing whore, I like new stuff,
This logo, so tribal, so mean, so tough.
Today I awoke and pulled up the tab,
The smell inside gave my senses a jab.
I took my first sip, I drank it right down,
Such a foolish choice, I'm such a damn clown.
My eyes shot open, my feet left the floor,
My body in gear went straight for the door.
I should know better, I don't want to die,
Dropped down in a hole and covered in lye.
A wise man I'm not; my instincts, they stank,
All sixteen ounces in this can I drank.
Read these words I've written here on display,
If given a can, Sweet Christ, run away.
In all fairness, though, this stuff is not bad,
If you've got a stomach that's ironclad.
If energy drinks are truly your "thing,"
Then Full Throttle Fury's praises you'll sing.
Yeah, I was floating after this can. Quite reminiscent of my espresso pulling days. Yowza! But I sure got a lot of work done and I wasn't complaining about it in the slightest. Amazing how little complaining you do when you have the energy of a stampede of wild horses.
