Again, really? Is it really that time again? Well, according to my sick, twisted curiosity it is. After my neutral-bordering-on-positive experience with the allegedly ”orange” flavour of this brand, I find my curiosity piqued by unfamiliar “lime” and “fruit punch” flavours. While cohort Gravecat had a decidedly unpleasant experience first time around, my student nature proves itself here, in that I will infact eat and drink just about anything.

Except gin. But that explanation’s for another day.

The bright colours just make the evil look pretty.

Moving onto the subject at hand, it’s pretty hard to tell these two bottles aside. The only difference is in the little infographic at the cap, and the worryingly inaccurate slogan crossing the bottom of these phials. The photo pretty much shows the differences and how horrendously tiny my hands are. The music I was listening to was Never Wanted To Dance by Mindless Self Indulgence, for the curious.  Back to the subject, if you can notice, the infographics are two differing sizes and qualities, bringing home and reminding my churning stomach just how disturbingly questionable these little phials of evil are. “Quick. Healthy. Energy.” indeed. Curiously, the lime flavour claims that the energy is “lasting” over healthy, and my mind just has to think: Why did it change…?

Swallowing the last vestiges of pride and sanity, I start the night’s torture with the acid-green accented bottle of lime. Cracking it open and tearing off the plastic wrap, a peer inside makes me grimace. A slightly clouded yellow liquid meets my eyes, and my nose is assaulted with the precise smell of Dettol. I wouldn’t be surprised if it was Dettol, difference being one does you a hell of a lot less harm.

Ah.

Yeah, that’s fake lime alright. I have a fairly positive relationship with the fake fruit flavour group of additives, and the primary taste of faux-lime in this proves no different. It the other tastes that make me want to unload the scant contents of my stomach. Yes, it tastes in part like Dettol, that is infact the main flavour after fake lime. But that’s honestly the least bilious of these things. Other flavours that wash over my poor, abused tastebuds are the bitter tangs of my old friends sucralose and acesulsufame K and….oh. I thought I tasted that vile neurotoxin in there somewhere. Welcome back, aspartame. Your prickling diabetes-inducing sweetness was not missed.

As I’m unable to take further sips for the sake of my poor genetics, I’ll move straight on to the fruit punch. I apologise for making this agonisingly short. Had I checked the ingredients prior, I would save you the trouble of being cheated out of your precious vitriol.

Actually, that’s a good way to describe the scent of the alleged ”fruit punch” flavour. Murky slight-yellow, like the other, it smells like Dettol and vitriol. That disturbingly acidic scent that follows “fake cherry” around everywhere.

Oh, it is fake cherry. I believe I’m owed at least 4 more fruits to make a punch, here. Don’t skimp on me, Viva Beverages.

The taste is horrible. Prickling acidity followed by sickeningly bitter and cloying flavours of artificial sweeteners, my mouth is salivating like I’m about to throw up and my stomach is offering sharp stabs of agony as its input. At this point I could honestly curl up in my bed as a ball of pain. This is how awful this is to me. Beyond the woefully fleeting flavour of fake cherry is nothing but agony and sickening nausea.  I have taken one tiny sip of this disgusting concoction, and I can drink no more. I’m sorry, I could just about manage the dreaded Lucozade Alert, but now it has been bested by this monstrosity, Quick Energy Fruit Punch. I can’t continue, I daren’t consume another sip for fear of my angrily growling stomach and my swelling, dry throat.

If you’ll excuse me, I need to die.

I have to ask myself, really…Why do I keep doing this? I’ve so far sampled the sub-par Relentless Energy Shot, the Red Bull Energy Shot, the bilious Lucozade Alert, the Best-In brand of nameless energy shot, and the oddly nostalgia-inducing flavour of Quick Energy.

So here I am, sitting with a can of Monster Ripper, arguably the most cloying of all the Monster line of energy drinks. I can feel the recently filled cavities in the back of my mouth aching sharply in protest as I start hitting the energy drinks like an alcoholic falling off the wagon. I’ll probably need it, if my last experience is anything to go by. Success in these things is less than 1 in 5. I think my cohort would agree with this statistic.

One for review, one for comfort.

In bolded impact-font at the reverse of the respectably large bottle are the words “INTENSE MIXED FRUIT FLAVOUR STIMULATION DRINK WITH SWEETENER”….this bodes badly already. So, on a curious sniff, I’m assaulted with, yes, the gag-worthy scent of sucralose. I don’t say this enough, but 387.44 million miles of hate just about covers the amount of loathing I have for this sweetener. It is the bane of my life. But that aside, the other scents are of that nondescript tutti frutti flavour from my childhood. You know the kind, the one you’d always have with ice pops, including the ubiquitous blue raspberry, which I’m still quite fond of.

Overriding that vague “fruit” flavour is what I can only describe as “fake watermelon”. I’m sure I’m not the only one who’s consumed something with fake watermelon flavour in it, but I have a very love-hate relationship with it. This…isn’t looking to be one of those “love” situations. I don’t even want to dare to take a sip of this potential monstrosity. I felt ill 24 hours later after my last escapade. I guess I’ll have to man up…as much as a woman can.

First word in 3 hours: “Waugh!” I think that sums it up fairly well, but allow me to go into more detail. There is no fruit flavour, considering its boastful claim and overwhelming scent. It’s just the bitterness of B-vitamins and sucralose, and the acrid aftertaste of indistinct, enamel-melting acids. There is a vague sweetness, and something that doesn’t even pass for that generic fruit flavour that most energy drinks have adopted with little variation (nods to Rockstar and Monster for being unique in that respect.) It’s…it’s just awful. A needy chug from the can of Monster quells my rebellious tastebuds while aggravating my teeth and sending another sharp ache of pain through my jaw and down my neck.

It’s not as bad as Lucozade, but it’s damn close.  If you’ll excuse me, I’ll be eating Pringle Xtreme Chilli with extra chilli sauce to get rid of the flavour.

Because they lied about how “Xtreme” the chilli flavour was.

Liars.