Dear Mr. Cola:
May I call you Coca, or even Coke? You and I have a very long acquaintance, but perhaps you are unaware of it. I remember when I was three years old I would wait for the Coca-Cola delivery man to make his stop at the corner grocery my mom and dad managed. After he unloaded Dad’s order, he would give me a Coke and sit me on top of the chest-type cooler in the store. I was too shy to say much, but I remember looking forward to his visits.
Now that I think about it I realize that I have known you longer than anyone unless we want to talk about some relatives that I haven’t seen in fifty years. Some people are best forgotten even if they are relatives.
You have been a constant in my life since I was three. You were there when I walked home from school and stopped at the drugstore for a cherry Coke that cost a nickel. You have been my drink of choice for most of my life. I wouldn’t trade you for the finest wine. There have been very few days when I haven’t had a Coke.
Coke, I would like to tell you how much I like your new packaging on the two liter bottles of caffeine free Coke. It evokes memories of those curvy little eight-ounce bottles of my youth.
I do have one little problem with you, Coke. Why in the world is the bottom of your bottles designed to be so unstable? Can’t you just make them flat so that they don’t fall over in shopping cart and in the trunk of the car for the trip home? Please, please, please! Give us a flat bottom!
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