Wrung & Wrested
The life of a “squeezee” bottle is a journey from promising flawless delivery to a desperate battle for the last drop. It starts with easy, "ad-perfect" dollops, but quickly evolves into a ritual requiring excessive emotional persuasion and, eventually, aggressive bouts of strangling to extract the last remaining drop. Even when deemed empty and about to be discarded, single minded determination brings it back from the recycling bin for that one final serving. Ultimately, it’s a stubborn, stressful tussle for every last dribble, proving that the final, hard-won blob is the tastiest and is worth the chaotic effort.
My hand looks extremely rough, calloused,& wrinkled like dry tree bark but I’m not bothered.
The Lady of the House is suspecting my sanity right now, But that hardly matters.
I know we have a brand-new Squeezee bottle of Ketchup
right there in the fridge taunting me, but I don't really care. I
am not opening it until every inch of
pride is squeezed out this obstinate one and it is truly dead.
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