Kool-Aid Man

The Kool-Aid Man paces in the storage room, psyching himself up for another epic sugary entrance. "Oh yeah!" he mutters, sloshing his vibrant red contents aggressively against the inside of his glass pitcher body.

He has to make this next appearance really count after that disastrous incident at the hospital. That pesky security guard with the stun baton had really harshed his mellow. No matter. He'd left behind a packet of tropical punch powder as a calling card, and who can say no to tropical punch?

"C'mon, get it together! You're the KOOL-Aid Man!" He declares aloud in the empty room. "Who cares about artificial sweeteners and 'wellness drinks'? Once I burst onto the scene, they won't be able to resist my high-fructose charms!" Though truthfully, that might also be due to addictive sugar cravings, but whatever.

The Kool-Aid Man peers around a tower of boxes at the plain white wall before him. It's like looking at a blank canvas. Limitless potential, just begging for a splash of inspiration. Behind it lie his next unsuspecting victims, er, audience. He grins with glee. "Alright you sweet crimson stud, let's give them a show they won't forget!"

He rolls his shoulders, liquid contents churning audibly within the glass with a wet, shlopping sound. Then he backs up several steps, braces himself, and takes off at a run towards the wall.

Airborn for just a heartbeat - he leaps forward majestically, shattering through plaster and wood supports like a sugary wrecking ball. An avalanche of debris rain down around him as he strikes a dramatic pose amidst the rubble. An astonished audience stare speechlessly while his red liquid dripped from fractured pipes and exposed wires above. The Kool-Aid Man beams around expectantly, awaiting the cheers and praise for his unforgettable entrance. Or at the very least some polite applause.

"Oh YEEEAAAHHH!" he bellows at the shellshocked room. "Now who wants a refreshing glass of Kool-Aid?!"

He's been planning this latest arrival for weeks now, and today's the day - what better place to bring the fun than a counselor's office? Prime party turf, just asking for a little bit of cherry-flavored sunshine.

"Oh yeah, this is gonna be the bomb." The Kool-Aid Man psychs himself up with a little sashay, then comes crashing spectacularly through the office wall amidst a cascade of crumbling drywall and wiring, sending the married couple leaping in surprise from their seats on the worn corduroy couch.

The therapist shrieks in alarm as chunks of drywall and wooden beams fly across the room. She ducks, narrowly avoiding getting clocked in the head by a large piece of debris.

"Oh yeah!" the oversized drink mascot exclaims, "Is this where the marital problems are happening? I'm here to turn those frowns..." he boisterously begins pouring vivid red liquid over the stunned husband's balding head "...upside down!"

The therapist stands up in alarm, glasses askew and notepad fluttering to the floor. "No, no, no!" she protests, rushing over in an attempt to stem the sugary tide drenching her office and clients alike.

"Ha ha, the best way to work through relationship troubles is with a proper ice breaker!" The Kool-Aid man gyrates his pitcher, causing his ice cubes to clink. "The cavalry's arrived! We'll have this sorted out in no time over tall glasses of ice-cold Kool-Aid! Oh yeah!"

The Kool-Aid Man stands just outside the Oval Office, psyching himself up to burst into the room during a highly confidential meeting between the President and key members of the Joint Chiefs of Staff.

Sure, this is probably an extremely inappropriate time and place. But it's ALWAYS a good time for an ice cold glass of Kool-Aid. He can't help that irrepressible urge welling up inside to make a dramatic sugary entrance. It tingles like a sugar high, sending sparks of anticipation all throughout his glass body and rippling outwards from the bottomless well of liquid sloshing in his center.

The Kool-Aid Man glances down the hall to ensure no Secret Service agents are in sight before backing up a few steps. Breaking into a run, he flings himself enthusiastically at the thick wooden door, feeling it give way beneath his weight and momentum in a satisfying crunch of splintering oak. Oh yeah, nothing feels quite like that first moment of delicious, disastrous impact.

"Oh YEAH!" He crows, bits of door frame clinging to his sweating glass surface as he rights himself. "Ask not what your drink can do for you, but what you can do to replenish that thirst - with a nice big gulp of me, the Kool-Aid Man! Whaddya say, Prez?"

What a sweet line. He spent at least half the afternoon rehearsing it. But no one cheers. The President jumps up from behind his heavy mahogany desk, face purpling like a glass of Grape Jammers in anger. "What in blazes?!" he splutters.

The Chief of Staff sighs heavily, dragging a wrinkled hand down his face "Mr. President, please sit, your blood pressure..." he implores weakly, shoulders slumping in defeat.

Oblivious to the chaos and consternation swirling around him, the Kool-Aid Man lets out a merry laugh. "Well fancy meeting you folks here!" he guffaws "My agenda today is delivering fun in the form of refreshment!"

He tilts forward with a loud sloshing sound, sending a sweeting crimson wave cascading over the antique Resolute desk. State secrets and classified documents dissolve into a pulpy fizzing mess of red sugary liquid "Oh no, my peace treaty!" cries the President in dismay, grabbing futilely for the sodden papers.

"Mr. President, your heart!" admonishes the Chief of Staff, rushing forward, clipboard and medical bag in hand.

The Kool-Aid Man bursts through the apartment door, sending splinters of cheap plywood exploding into the living room. "Oh yeah! Honey, I'm hoooome!" he announces.

His two roommates glance up briefly from their usual stations to acknowledge his entrance - Cool Spot from his perch atop one end of the sagging paisley couch, thumbs working furiously over the Sega Genesis controller in his hand as colors flash across the video game on screen. Dr. Pepper reclines at the other end, eyes never leaving the pages of 'An Idiot's Guide to Ancient Beverage Lore.'

The Kool-Aid Man trots inside, trailing sticky red footprints across the shag carpeting. He plops down between his two roommates, causing the springs to creak alarmingly beneath his bulk. "So boys, ready to liven things up on this boring Saturday night?" He waggles his eyebrows suggestively. "I was thinking we hit the town, maybe check out Lola's new juice bar downtown?"

Cool Spot returns his attention to his game, fingers tapping rapidly across the controller. Dr. Pepper sighs, carefully closing his book. "Must you always arrive so...dramatically?" he asks. "We just had that door replaced from your last 'dynamic entry.'" He makes air quotes with his slender fingers before pushing his wire frames further up his nose. "We all remember your nonsense in the bathroom with the powdered packet of Lemon Lime Kool-Aid." Dr. Pepper sniffs with disdain. "I believe a night in with my books suits me better than your usual weekend revelry."

The Kool-Aid Man emits an exaggerated yawn and sprawls deeper into the lumpy couch cushions. "Lightweights, both of you!" He ruffles Cool Spot's spherical head playfully, eliciting an annoyed bloop sound. "But suit yourselves, more wild raspberry daiquiris for me! Spiked Kool-Aid is where it's at, baby!"

With a creak and groan of tortured upholstery, the Kool-Aid Man extracts himself from between his squashed roommates and saunters back towards the splintered door frame. He pauses and glances back over his shoulder with a grin. "Last chance boys! It's Ladies Night at the club. Could be our lucky chance to get fresh with the Shasta sisters..." He gives his pitcher a salacious slosh.

The Kool-Aid Man bursts through the brick wall of the corporate conference room, sending chunks of debris across the large mahogany table where the executives are seated.

"Oh yeah!" he hollers enthusiastically. The businessmen and women scream as they leap up from their chairs. Shouts of panic shift to stares of befuddlement. Not quite the reaction he was going for, but then again no one's tasted the goods yet.

"What is the meaning of this?!" demands the CEO, his face growing red with fury behind his horn-rimmed glasses. He slams his fist on the table. "We are in the middle of very important earnings projections!"

"Hey fellas!" Kool-Aid Man waves a stubby handle arm in greeting. "I couldn't help but overhear your meeting and it sounded like thirsty work! I took it upon myself to liven things up in here with a splash of ice-cold Kool-Aid! No need to thank me."

"Thank you?! You just destroyed half the room and ruined our proposals for the quarter!" another man shouts incredulously, his toupee knocked askew.

The Kool-Aid Man tilts forward, pouring frothy red liquid across the expansive tabletop, soaking spreadsheets and reports. The executives leap up with cries of dismay, trying to rescue sodden documents and ringing buzzers to summon the cleaning staff. "You guys have been holed up here for hours! Time for a break to quench your thirst and get those creativity juices flowing!"

The Kool-Aid Man strolls happily through the sliding glass doors of the grocery store, humming an upbeat tune under his breath. His red liquid sloshes merrily inside his clear glass pitcher as he gazes around at the colorful aisles filled with packaged goods. An employee stocking shelves nearby does a double-take before shaking his head and mutters something about 'damn college kids' before continuing about his work.

"Hmm, what should I grab today?" muses the Kool-Aid Man aloud. He meanders past pyramids of canned vegetables and displays of boxed pasta, considering the options. Oh, the temptation. That irrepressible urge to burst through something wells up inside. But he fights it back, just barely. Still though, his digits tingle at the thought of sending a stand of orange juice tumbling in a cold wave of citrus or leaving a Kool-Aid-shaped hole in the towering soda display...

The Kool-Aid man pauses in front of the long refrigerated beverage section, regarding the endless rows of colorful bottles and cartons. So many options - yet most of them pretenders when compared to his original fruity deliciousness! With a derisive snort, he bypasses the long shelf of Snapple and their quirky 'Real Fact' labels. Who needed trivia when you had his mouthwatering cherry and lemon-lime flavors?

"Pardon me young man!" comes a sudden sharp voice at his elbow. An elderly woman with a cart piled high with cat food and toilet paper stands frowning at the distracted drink container blocking her way. With his bulk filling most of the aisle, she had no way to maneuver her cart around him. The Kool-Aid Man started, jerking back to awareness at the address. He pastes on his most charming grin and swept into an elaborate bow.

"A thousand apologies ma'am!" he exclaims. "I was momentarily mesmerized by this dizzying array of inferior beverages. Please, allow me to get out of your way!"

He presses his back against the glass door of the refrigerated shelves with a squeak and crunch of straining glass, allowing the old woman to inch her cart past with grumbled thanks. As she walks away, the Kool-Aid man can't resist delivering a parting quip-- "By the way, if you're looking for the real deal in refreshment, aisle 5 is where it's at!"

The Kool-Aid Man can barely contain his excitement as he stands outside the old abandoned warehouse. Getting here was a journey. TSA never liked him much, though he can't fathom why. But the flight to Britain was worth it, and the Kool-Aid Man has the deets from a very credible source that behind these walls is a meeting underway with some folks who could really, really use a party. A party he aims to crash, er, liven up.

His red liquid sloshes dangerously inside his glass container as he does a little dance, shaking his rump. "Oh yeah baby! Time to make an entrance they won't forget!" he mutters to himself. He rubs his glass hands together eagerly. Ever since that little stunt at the intensive care unit, he's been laying low. But crashing a super secret dark wizard meeting? Now that was worth risking another chase scene!

Peering through a grimy window, he can see shadowy figures in dark robes murmuring amongst themselves, their pale faces lit eerily by flickering candles. At the head of the long wooden table stands a dude with a face only a mother could love. He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named himself, looking even taller and more gaunt than the Kool-Aid Man remembers from those Wanted posters. He hisses something ominous about blood purity and crushing Muggle resistance. Borrrring! Time to make things interesting!

There are all sorts of benefits to being an impervious pitcher filled with a bottomless beverage and the ability to break through any surface. He'd never divulge his sugar-sweet secrets, but being able to break through all manner of wizarding wards and magic is a pretty tasty skill he's eager to flex.

The Kool-Aid Man backs up and takes a running leap, crashing through the boarded up window in an explosion of rotting wood and rusty nails. He tucks into an impressive combat roll, popping up amidst the stunned circle of dark wizards with his fists planted triumphantly on his glass hips. Broken glass and flakes of peeling paint cling comically to his sweating crimson surface.

"Did someone call for a Blood TRAITOR?!" he bellows enthusiastically, scattering mice and empty cider bottles across the concrete floor. "Because I'm about to Accio drinks - in the new Black Cherry flavor!"

Jaws drop all around, wands falling limply at their sides in shock. The Dark Lord himself freezes, looking utterly bewildered by this sudden intrusion. Poor guy's probably only ever had cherry. Oh well, can't go wrong with the classics. The Kool-Aid Man grins and tilts forward with a creak of strained glass, pouring his frothy contents out onto the dusty table. Parchments dissolves in a flood of red, spell books sopping up sweet liquid like sponges.

"C'mon boys, crack a smile!" he cajoles. "All work and no play makes Voldy a dull boy, am I right?" He winked saucily at the Dark Lord, whose slit-nostrils flared in confusion and dawning outrage.

Just then, one particularly burly Death Eater extracts himself from the pile of his outraged comrades brandishing his wand threateningly. "You impudent fool!" he snarls. "How dare you speak the Dark Lord's name! Avada--"

"That's enough," Voldemort hisses, raising one long-fingered hand. His scarlet eyes bore into the Kool-Aid Man's glass face intently. "I could end your frivolous existence in an instant, foolish Muggle contraption. What is the meaning of this?"

The Kool-Aid Man merely laughs, unperturbed by the threat. "Yeah yeah, Avada Kedavra, I get it! But where's the fun in that?" He swishes his liquidy hips from side to side sassily. "C'mooooon Voldy, live a little! You can cruciate me later if you really want." He shoots Voldemort a playful wink. "Don't you wanna taste the goods?"