Not unlike this year's diet variation, my tongue is crippled immediately upon liquid impact; though this time it is due to the seventy three grams of sugar inside these thin plastic walls, all from high fructose corn syrup, drowning my poor palate in a saccharine salvo of bare unnecessities. I taste peach and mango, both so distant and distracted by the gut-busting carbohydrates that sips end up being just indistinctly fruity. Effervescence leaves almost as soon as it arrives, leaving the texture to fend for itself, a very, ahem, syrupy mouthfeel. As for acidity, ha, I wish we had some sourness to steer the experience back on track. I do enjoy a good mystery, giving me a bit of a challenge as I pen the review, and I do truly go in blind. But then I like to see what the interwebs thinks, which a quick search shows that even the nebulous blob of folks online have no idea. Is it fruit punch? Some nostalgic candy? No one has any idea, but my opinion still stands: this drink sucks.
A soda with ninety one grams of caffeine means that to someone, somewhere, this will replace that morning cup of coffee. Not me though, I prefer my buzz to be one that I does not need to be followed by a long jog.
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