I’m walking around a local grocery conglomerate trying to look disinterested, avoiding absurd marketing and advertisements when possible, and otherwise keeping myself entertained. Sometimes I’ll run into a fan, or somebody who reads this site, we’ll usually shuffle awkwardly through a conversation, feigning interest for each other’s quasi intelligent quips, before challenging each other’s manhood by comparing high scores on Double Dragon. That wasn’t the case this particular night, as fate would have it, I would only be meeting a bottle of strange liquid in an aisle that deserved special attention from a mop. Sometimes, while I’m out, I’ll see a random item on a shelf in a store, and just know it requires a review. Other times, I’ll dress up as a werewolf and prowl my neighborhood streets at night because there’s nothing on TV. This was one of those first nights, as a beverage with trees on its packaging usually signals the desire for further examination.
Here I am pouring myself a taste amidst some random junk in the background, including a Madballs cup I scored off eBay many years ago in my younger, more disheveled days. I’d challenge local hooligans and bullies to air hockey matches then, nearby children would rally behind me and chant my name vicariously. That may or may not have actually happened, it could have just been a dream I had two summers ago. Anyway, digressions aside—I’m pouring this soda with the ominous feeling it’s going to stink, for lack of a better word, and fearing the worse. After tasting it, my prior worries were confirmed; leaving me feeling pissed on, much akin to the Waits family, when their son Joshua urinated all over them at the dinner table in the awful film Troll 2. I’ve been to Nilbog before, it’s not a pretty place.
I couldn’t drink this shit. Now, this is coming from Mr. Review himself, a guy whose exotic palate has earned him the respect of his peers, and the occasional free meal. You’d have to be absolutely in love with coconuts to find this drink worthwhile. As absurd as it sounds, for some reason I got this visual while drinking this where I felt like I was standing poolside drinking some tanning woman’s body lotion. I couldn’t finish it, which is an extreme rarity for yours truly.
The taste isn’t mild whatsoever, so be prepared for the liquid equivalent of that time “Rowdy” Roddy Piper smashed a coconut over Jimmy Snuka’s head. Fear not, for days after tasting this retched beverage, while perusing a local international market, I saw that Goya has dozens of different flavored sodas—and found a couple that interested me. I don’t believe this is the last we’ll be seeing of Goya and their fruity sodas.
Overall Grade: F
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