The Dr Pepper Conundrum (3)

Dear Barry, (may I call you Barry?)

It is with a heavy heart that I write to you today, for my cat, Lucky, passed away last night. I know what you’re thinking, but no; in fact it was a lamentable lack of curiosity that did him in. Had he shown more interest in the approaching headlights, and less in licking his anus, he might still be with us today, and my lessons about the perils of irony would not have been in vain.

Sadly, Barry, Lucky was a cat, and no more able to grasp abstract narrative concepts than he could a knife and fork. Oh, how we laughed at his lack of opposable thumbs.

I feel some measure of his terminal bewilderment, however, when I note that Berry Blast is still being vended in place of Dr Pepper. Why do you persist in this? Why do you torment me so? Wherefore the Berry, Barry?

We are not so different, you and I. Let this strange fruit not come between us, as the offside wheel of a 1999 Impreza so tragically bisected my cat.



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