...what I meant was butt plug.
Up first on my journey through the dirty underbelly of the beer world (those to be had locally, anyway) is an interesting little number called Sparks Plus. Here before me is a can that I've passed over hundreds of times at my local supermarket. It's neither bold nor particularly exciting, quite contrary to the "extreme" label that this sort of thing tends to carry. This drink falls into that space that I've yet to explore, where uppers and downers are mixed and the end result is a kind of confusing mess of tired, jittery giddiness that can only come from a 7.0% abv, 1 pint 16oz can of alcoholic caffeine. And taurine. And guarana-ginseng blend. And natural flavor. And certified colors. And a little FD&C yellow number 5...you know, for flavor. Maybe that's what the '+' means.
I have to admit at this point that I've already finished the entire can. In less than 5 minutes. I think it's the caffeine. You see, you have to prepare yourself for these things. You go into each "adventure consumable" experience assuming that this will not be pleasant. This will not be the kind of beverage that encourages sipping, to be enjoyed slowly over a few chapters of a nice book or an engaging convesation. You kind of steel yourself against the worst possible outcome, as if you're pouring a can of straight Devil's piss. Well, I'm happy to report that it actually wasn't that bad, kind of like a Red Bull but not as sickeningly sweet. I don't mean to imply that it was enjoyable by any means, but I can safely say I've had worse. Now if you'll excuse me, I'm gonna go run some laps around the house before I wash the cars, buff the floors and finally crash into the peaceful hibernation that usually follows this kind of energy rush. EXTREME!!!