So, I got in trouble.

Twice.

Firstly, I went and asked my Aunt Lorraine (her real name) if she ever used a Coke douche. But, let me tell you how she took extreme offense and rudely reminded me that she was a mere Child back then, and was too YOUNG to remember and furthermore, does she LOOK that OLD to me and to everyone else?

Ummm, yeah?

Secondly, we were in her bedroom while this altercation was going on (okay maybe not an altercation exactly, but you do know that I have been battling a serious case of the dramatics for years now) and after I went on further to explain how one does use a Coke douche, she was so disgusted and told me to partir (French word for -”get the hell on out!!”) her room.

I opened the door and who should I see?

Her 11 year old son, standing there listening with a smile on his face.

I didn’t even bother turning around to face my Aunt. I could already feel her breathing on the back of my neck. Nor, did I bother chasing him down the stairs, after him as we both clearly heard him say-“Guys, my mom did a Coke douche!”

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