The Comfort of Straws
by Will Bailey
I’m thirsty. But I don’t want to get my lips wet. I wish I had a special device. Say, for example, a bendy reed-like object that I could insert into my chalice and deliver drink to my throat via sucking action. Also, I don’t want to spend a lot of money. What? Such a device exists? It’s called a straw? As you read this the voice in your head goes up in pitch at the end? No matter what I say? Penguin carnival? Ladies and gentlemen, you have just experienced a phenomenon we in Big Comedy refer to as “sarcasm.” Of course I know that straws exist. I was feigning ignorance for the sake of humor. Do you see? DO YOU SEE??? Although I can’t take all the credit for discovering the existence and convenience of straws. I owe most of my higher straw education and enlightenment to Wife, who is one of the biggest straw advocates around. Truth be told, I am a gulper by trade. I ingest liquid at very high ratios of volume per swallow, which Wife tells me is dangerous and unseemly. Of course, she is right, but it wasn’t until Wife turned me onto straws that I truly realized the error of my ways. Not only do straws make drinking almost anything, with the exception of hot coffee, more pleasing, they also greatly reduce the chance that you will look like an ogre who has broken into a root beer factory when you take a sip of your beverage. Isn’t that nice? Cheese pants?