This evening I was sampling a delicious Capri-Sun beverage, as pictured here. Bursting with natural oranges, and such, and sporting some kind of funky sports top ideal for the busy olympic athlete such as I.
It was indeed very orangey, and the ideal accompaniment to my evening sandwich. But while engaging in this smörgåsbord of fine dining, I noticed that the packaging seemed to have an interesting effect of crumpling up as I drank. Perhaps the space-age doobry on the end was some kind of one-way valve, allowing easy refreshment to pour out, but no air to return into the package - ideal for the busy spaceman such as I.
I experimented, as any good scientist would do, blowing air into, and sucking air out of, the package. It seemed to retain its shape no matter what I did. Curious. There's obviously some kind of funky action going on here, I thought, and as a result I came to the conclusion that this must be some kind of spill-proof top or something.
Testing the thesis, I cupped my right hand (to catch any small droplets of juice which may leak if the experiment fails) while tipping the alien technology packaging with my left. It's not long before I discover two things. One - there is nothing space-age about this packaging at all and if you tip the juice, it comes out. Two - a cupped hand is no place to store orange juice, even when poured gently, let alone gushing out of its low-tech packaging, as it is currently doing. Where are NASA's rocket scientists now, eh?
Result - orange juice everywhere. T-shirt soaked. Trousers soaked. Underwear soaked. Juice on chair. Juice on floor.
Forget the sharp objects, I clearly shouldn't be allowed near anything. Complicated foods like crackers and cheese are one thing, but if I can't even handle orange juice, I'd better give up any thoughts of being allowed near any kind of food ever again.
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