Entries from August 2014 ↓

The Meticulous Adventure of the Undesirable Box of Mello Yello

For optimal experience, listen to this whilst reading this story, as well as imagining the narration in a royal British accent.

When I had been commissioned to write a feature story pertaining to my experience of attempting to give away free, canned soft-drinks, I had not anticipated my quest to be an arduous one. What I mean to say is that giving away something for free is a lot more difficult that one would think. Of course, Mello Yellow is not considered the utmost desired soft-drink of them all, but one would imagine that it being “free” would make it easier to give away.

The journey started after I had finished my first morning class and had made my way to Lewis Hall to receive my objective material. It seemed to be an opportune time to pick up the material, as I had a class in the same building immediately afterward my excursion. The retrieval was an awkward experience in it of itself. Upon entering the lounge, there were already two people having casual conversation at the table. When I peered into the fridge, I had expected to pick up a twelve-pack of Coca-Cola, as our instructor had repeatedly said “Coke”, but instead, I could only find Mello Yello. Nonetheless, I felt obligated to mention that I was apprehending this box of Mello Yello for a class and not taking it for myself (perhaps, at the time, I was embarrassed to have had to take such an unpopular drink).

As fate would have it, when I arrived in the classroom, offering free Mello Yellow to those waiting for the professor to reply, I would be forced to receive a phone call from my boss (one he made in order to berate me about improper communication we had experienced). Due to the unexpected call, I had no choice but to drop off my twelve pack of Mello Yellow and answer the unpleasant shouting. As a result, I returned doubly disappointed that no one had even opened the box. This was an ominous foreshadowing to my quest at hand.

After a substantially plain class, I was ready to come to lunch. Perhaps, I had hoped to  myself, those attending lunch with me would enjoy an extra beverage that would not require a glass. Yet again, as fate would have it, I was forced to drop off my coke, offering it to anyone present, lest I suffer the consequences of having to wait in line for an extended period of time. Despite my best efforts, I still had to wait in line for an excruciatingly long amount of time to only take three chicken fajitas. Again, I was doubly disappointed as no one had even touched the box of Mello Yello when I had returned. The day had been turning dark disappointingly fast. Alas, they had happened to put cilantro in the salsa, so there was at least some good at that point in the day.

After lunch, I had set out for my third and final class for the day. I was fully determined to rid myself of this box of carbonated beverages that were becoming a thorn in my side. As I had entered Eppley  to prepare for my next class, I came to the stark realization that Nature had left a voice mail. I set the box on some railing, hoping that someone may just as well steal the damned thing.

After listening to Nature’s extensive voice mail, I had returned to where I had set the box to find that it was no longer on the railing. Had it fell? Had it vanished? Had someone owned the balls to steal an entire twelve pack of Mello Yello in broad daylight? A quick glance over the edge answered the first question with a stern “no”. Another glance into the music office answered the second two with an even harder “no”. Someone had simply taken the liberty to move the Mello Yello from the railing to a safe table in the music office. It turned out that the culprit was none other than Professor Tony Hutchins, a bald-headed, goatee’d, motorcycling man who happened to be the nicest man Morningside College has ever seen.

Unknown to me at the time, this was the beacon of hope that I had been searching for all of this dreary day. I had needed to discuss certain scheduling with him for my involvement in Jazz Ensemble, and it just happened to be helpful that he was willing to take one of the cans of Mello Yello for himself. Perhaps, I hoped to myself, people will be more apt to take it, now that the box has been opened. I assumed that it is an undesirable experience for one to attempt opening a twelve-pack box of canned soft drinks. I would not know too much from personal experience, as I tend to avoid twelve-packs of canned soft drinks.

Much to my disappointment, when I had arrived to my final class of the day, the only person who was willing to take a can was the professor. When the class had inquired about the box of Mello Yello, Amber Burg took it upon herself to explain what my mission had been this entire time. Her tone spoke a semi-sincere “good luck” that one would send off to someone who was to an arena filled with lions while they were armed with only a rock and a stick. Despite her intents to encourage, I couldn’t help but feel that I may or may not be stuck with this burden of an undesirable beverage for a longer period of time than what would make me comfortable.

Fortunately, I had managed to rid myself of that rubbish before I even had to come in for work ( and receive a formal apology from my newly tranquil boss). After class, I decided to take a shortcut from Eppley to Dimmitt by taking the back door. As fate would have it, I would encounter a miracle. In the midst of the Eppley lot, there stood a man, seemingly of Hispanic/Latino descent, with a young face, but a hairline that had receded for back enough to not be excused as a high hairline. Little did I know that this man would resolve my long-winded quest to unchain myself from the burden of Mello Yello.

As I passed by, he kept on eyeing me. Unsure of his intent, I quickly shouted over to him, “Do you want some Mello Yello?” to which he promptly responded, “Yeah, I was actually just going to ask you if I could have one.” As we had conversed, he had mentioned to me how thirsty he was due to working all day. I let him know that I was doing my best to get rid of this wretched box. He informed me that there were more workers around, so it would be no harm if I had just left the box there. Inside, I was rejoicing, finally! My quest had been completed! I had received my reward of tossing this poorly marketed brand of drink. For now, I can only hope that I never have the displeasure of having to rid myself of Mello Yello ever again.

The End.


Stories are narratives that can have a great effect on who we are and what we become.

To me, a story is painting a picture with words. Each little character is a mark, that when placed with other characters, form a subject, and when those subjects are placed together on the same canvas, they form a picture. Of course, a picture can have as many or as few subjects as necessary.

A story is comprised of events, situations, characters, settings, and (most importantly) movement. These different pieces of the story are key to immersing the reader and/or viewer into an entirely different world. This construction of words and terms are what helps connect our society from one to another.

At the bare minimum, this is the effect that it had on me…

When I was younger, my parents would take me to church so that I could be a good boy. For a while, I would be separated from them, which was a rarity for any 4-year-old attending home-school, and go to Sunday school. There, I would learn many different Bible stories about David, Moses, Elijah, and Jesus. Each of these stories had some sort of lesson to be learned, mostly on how to make sure that you go to Heaven and not… Come to think of it, they never really mentioned anything other than Heaven….

Anyway, these stories helped instill a long withstanding moral code that I had followed for much of my prepubescent life. I had always done my best to make sure that I didn’t anger God with any sin that I had; All these stories of miscellaneous people goofing up usually led to the wrath of God made me fearful of failure. It was during my middle school years that I began to realize that my sins were not much of a factor on whether or not I would meet God’s wrath.

Regardless, to this day, I still have a need in me to not be a terrible person (I avoid saying “be a good person” because my definition may not fit other people’s definition). Whether it be Bible stories or superhero movies, I was told not to be a good person for my own needs (because that makes you not a good person), but to be a good person for the rest of the world. Making the world a better place is the truest and best reward, as these stories have told me.

Of course, that’s just why I need stories…