Five hours, if you believe the name, 5-hour ENERGY, the container not much bigger than a pill bottle. 1.93 Fl. Oz. Grape. “They were all over downtown handing these out on street corners. Do you want it?” Verena asks. “I have too much energy already. I need a tranquillizer. A glass of wine at 5 p.m. Oh, you’re going to drink it?”
I am thumbing off the protective sheath around the lid, so yes, I guess I am. I could devote the whole day to feeling entirely like a glorious gizmo, a rocket ready for launch.
I swallow it down. It tastes like the air from an inner tube smells, denatured. So far so good.