How to Survive Off of Three Cans of 7-Up

Day 21
Our ascent to the top of Mount Kilimanjaro has become troubling and difficult to spell. A mountain goat, once thought of as the noblest of the goats, has eaten all of our provision. Alas, the calories of but three cans of 7-Up must sustain us for the remainer of our journey back to base. Obviously, our goal of scaling this mighty giant has been scrapped; unfortunately, survival is now our only simple yet arduous task left to conquer.

Day 22
Dr. Youngblood cries like an infant -- our passionate homosexual mountain love affair, now replaced with his less friendly suggestion that I instead fuck "myself". Filled with heartbroken rage, I am begining to think I may withhold from him my knowledge of the three unopened cans of fresh 7-Up. Though never having tasted the soft drink myself, according to what I recall as a boy from ads I used to joyfully watch during the Saturday morning cartoons, 7-Up beverages are both thirst-quenching and have a lemony-lime refreshment -- an effervescence, if you will. This is a pleasure I no longer think my companion and former lover deserves to share.

Day 23
I have killed Dr. Youngblood, feasting on his flesh for survival. Maybe I killed him out of hunger, maybe I killed him out of rage, most likely I killed him because any more 7-Up and I surely would have never ceased of vomitting. That beverage is not fit to ail human thirst let alone sustain human life. I mean, even Sprite gets old after a while, but there is something in 7-Up's secret formula that is nauseating -- possibly even madness inducing. I may soon pour the rest of the devil's piss water out and succumb to my fate.

Day 24
Now, I am sure to die. If future generations should read this, tell my wife I loved. Tell my daughter she was my world. Tell my son to avenge my death by striking back at the ones who could not save me -- the makers of 7-Up brand soda-pop -- for it was this undrinkable swill that prevented me from having the strength necessary to forge the final three miles back into camp. Oh the misery. But oh the happiness to die without the taste of 7-Up in my mouth.