Fruit Of The Gods

Once upon a time in the Conch Republic, there was a bronzed party boy who loved to drink mojitos under mango trees. He spent his days with other party boys tanning their nude bottoms under the Key West sun. He spent his nights dancing from one club to the next, never seen without an icy adult beverage in his hand. On one particular evening of Dionysian frivolity, the bronze party boy was enjoying his mojito in a jungle canopied bar. He swayed to Madonna's "Ray of Light", not spilling a drop of minty, limey coolness cradled in his grip. Then from out of nowhere, a large ripe mango hit the top of his head. The impact was so great that he likened that of the image of a whooping crane dodging raindrops. Much to his (and everyone watching) surprise, the cocktail never left his hand and never let a drop leave the tall, icy glass. "I've been hit!", he screamed. Thinking the worst and known for high drama, the bronzed party boy came up swinging (cocktail in hand). His very large, hunky blonde friend standing close by picked up a large mango and presented it to the party boy. Silently they both shrugged their shoulders and began to laugh hysterically. The hunky blonde pulled out his knife and sliced the mango into their cocktails. Lesson of the story: Order a mango daiquiri for emergencies. The End