Flat soda at Shalosh Suedos

I grabbed the half empty bottle of generic mountain dew soda, morning dew from Price Chopper the label proclaimed, promising refreshing taste, great price and loads of preservatives you cannot even pronounce. As my hand grasped the bottle expecting it to shrivel upon my grasp telling me that all the fiz had been used up before last Pesach the unexpected miracle happened. A firm hardness greeted my hand and told me that indeed for some reason this lone bottle of cheap imitation generic mountain dew had in fact retained some of its carbonation through its weeks of being used at this last supper. I wondered out loud why this bottle of my favorite soda, though a generic brand had somehow retained its bubbles? Why hadn’t it had the same fate as its cousins further down the table, raspberry seltzer hadn’t had the same luck, upon grabbing that bottle prior to this miraculous find I was able to grab it and squeeze it with little muscle use at all.

As I let the soft preservative laden carbonated fluid lap at my lips from my plastic 9oz cup, I wondered if the other resident components of this meal would bring as much excitement as this soda was bringing me. I let the popping bubbles glide down my esophagus and felt the cool refreshingness tingling my teeth. I looked around at the other foods adorning this plain, sterile and depressing meal. A stack of not so neatly placed brownies that resembled decaying almost petrified logs on a fake silver plate that would even embarrass other plastic plates due to its cheapness. Further own the home stretch to where the other patrons of meal who had at this time struck up the famous depressing, depressing tuned, last supper before the inevitable week song of yedid nefesh. Great song I thought, great tune even, but very depressing, kind of like the food, maybe this tradition of shalosh suedos developed to remind us of how G-dless and depressing our regular weeks are, so the Rabbis instituted a depressing meal of old tam-tams, fish balls and flat seltzer coupled with depressing songs and equally depressing patrons of the meal.

The purple table cloth tried to cover up the somber mood of old tuna, petrified brownies and flat raspberry seltzer. Little did the rest of table know or did I let them know, that I had found soda with fiz an anomaly at shalosh suedos a rarity like a UFO sighting.

“I’m telling you I found soda with fiz at shalosh suedos?”

“No way bro, that never happens”

“It was miracle, I felt like the Maccabees on Chanuka finding that last jar of oil”

“I bet you did”

And so it went I shared my generic mountain dew with my two equally shocked comrades who had chosen to sit the farthest from the repugnant stale foods on the opposite end of the table, rejoicing in our find and actually enjoying shalosh suedos for once.