Red Bull tastes like Welch’s grape soda. Except somehow better. Almost too sweet but not quite. Kinda bite-y but not too much. Oh dear. This is the start of a long slide toward twitching, isn’t it?

Tiny little cans of love. Tiny tiny. Cans of love.

I love you tiny cans. Of love. I do.

No kitty, you can not have my Red Bull! Bad kitty! Bad! MINE! IT’S MY DRINK KITTY!