Aramie Ewen ∙ 06/25/2021 ∙ June 2021
In a wildly controversial post last Wednesday, a spokesperson of Pouchy Juice claimed juice pouches are the official “cool cid” drink. To see how this has impacted cool kid communities, I decided to infiltrate the “cool cid cliques” myself. Those people of a higher class, or grade, if you will. “They can’t tell us what our cool cid drink is! NO! I don’t wanna,” a self-nominated cool kid spokesperson informed me. Notably, they drank a juice pouch anyway. “They taste good.” These cool kids are on another level of opposing authority—especially their own.
But another self-appointed cool kid spokesperson disagreed. They raged, “Some cool cids say I can’t drink juice pouches and be a cool cid, but I am a cool cid! I am! I’m so cool! I don’t care what they think.” Unfortunately, they got so wrapped up in their words I couldn’t make out the last bit of their argument. My best attempt was, “aaawaaawaaahuuh.”
Juice pouch grasped firmly in one hand, unsheathed straw in the other, another cool kid then nominated themself as spokesperson. Shouting, they said, “Like promises, juice pouches weren’t made to be broken!” They then shoved their straw at the juice pouch, but it folded in half. This spokesperson then proved themself a true cool kid, only crying for half an hour. Their comrades gazed on in respect.
“I am not a cool cid, but you have to be cinda grown-up to do that,” an onlooker muttered, pointing at the cool kid recovering from the straw break. They were slowly sipping their own juice pouch. And, from I saw by that point, I would say that makes them a cool kid spokesperson, too. “What’s going on,” some random kid said, passing by. While it is important to get outside perspectives, this kid is clearly wrong. They had no juice pouch. They did not speak “kid” as “cid.”
Since I was here, I also decided to answer one other question, although a bit unrelated to juice pouches: why “cool cids” and not “kool kids,” or “cool kids”? But when I tried to explain my question to one of the cool kid spokespeople, they feigned innocence. “What? You’re just saying the same thing three times.” As the cool kid they are, they held up three fingers to help me.
Another self-appointed cool kid spokesperson came up to me then. I’ll never forget their words, “You’ve punctured your last pouch, punk,” spoken before I was taken away from the cool kids in a police car for “breaking into a preschool.”