Tiger Malt Original

Well. Great. Merry Christmas. Fantastic. Here I am, on stage, accepting this award for perfect attendance for my high school. One of two kids that got it. I don't necessarily do stupendous in class, but I do fair. I'm a B student. What do I get? A handshake and a bottle of pop from the principal. That seems strange to me. I guess I did spend all that time going to class. I deserve this pop.

Alright. Study hall. Second to last day of the year. I've got this strange Tiger Malt and I'm going to drink it. I can do what I want. I'm 17, there is one day of school left and I haven't missed a day. Down the hatch Tiger Malt. Ugh. What the heck is in this bottle? What are my taste buds doing to me? I've got to try this again. I have never felt anything like this before. It's revolting but yet so familiar. Bleh. Terrible. Did someone play a joke on me? Is there some sort of conspiracy against letting kids finish a school year without missing a day? This is going to put me in the hospital? Did someone liquefy and strain a bowl of Raisin Bran? It tastes like a stronger version of my Puerto Rican friend Joey's mom's favorite Malta Goya drink. I might barf. That's isn't going to look good on the floor or on my permanent record.