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My Vice of Choice

My wife understands that nobody is perfect. That being said, she has informed me that my particular vice of choice has gone too far, and that she will have to intervene if I can’t get control of it myself.

She first confessed my problem to her coworkers years ago. She mentioned to them at break time one afternoon that she was worried about her husband. They had never heard anything but good stories about me before. But you know the old saying, that you never really know someone.

They could tell that she was truly concerned, so they asked for more details. She began to explain that every day she makes a lunch for her husband in his little pail, and off he goes to work. At the end of every day he brings the lunch pail home and she cleans it out.

“So what’s wrong with that?” they asked.

She explained that each evening, when she cleans out his pail, there at the very bottom, she sees it: evidence.

“What?” they asked. “What do you see?”

In a very concerned voice, she told them my biggest secret.

That’s right, you may have guessed it. I’m a avid Pepsi drinker. There is nothing I like better at the end of a long day than to sip on a nice cold Pepsi-Cola.

My wife’s friends think she has lost her mind. Some of their husbands are using drugs or sleeping with a neighbor, but apparently that is nothing compared with my addiction.

I’ve tried to stop, but the cravings are just too much. My neighbor is a avid Pepsi drinker, too. I can see him on his porch at night, sipping on the frosty can. They’re everywhere I look. I swear I can hear the hiss of one opening from a half a mile away.

I think my wife will just have to live with it.

I guess it could have been worse. It could have been Coke.