by Matthew Sanborn Smith
Vinnie figured if V-8 was so great and everybody coulda had one, then V-9 had to be better. Trouble was, there was no V-9. Vinnie set about to create one.
"Jesus, Vinnie!" Frankie sputtered between his coughing fits, "What the hell is in that? There's stuff in it!"
"Well, there's V-8, of course, and potato chips," Vinnie said.
"Potato chips? You can't put potato chips in juice." He propped himself against Vinnie's kitchen counter while his face dripped into the wastebasket.
"Sure you can. I just did. Everybody likes potato chips. Look, don't you love chocolate chips in your ice cream?"
"Aw, man, you're not gonna put chocolate chips in this shit too, are you?"
"Now that would be silly. I'm saying you like the mix, right? You got the melty stuff and you got the chewy stuff. Same thing here." He held up the bottle. It had plain white paper taped around it with "V-9" written on it with a permanent marker.
"You don't want chewy stuff in your juice, you crazy asshole. V-8 is juice, V-9's gotta be juice too."
"The "V" stands for "vegetable," not "juice." Otherwise it would be called J-8, wouldn't it? And potato chips is a vegetable."
"Potato chips are junk food. They're processed. With oil." Vinnie considered this a moment, then he jumped up.
"Not just oil, my friend! Vegetable oil! Do you understand what we've got here? It's V-10! That's two better!"
"Why stop there?" Frankie said. "Why not three or four better? It's not like anybody's gonna drink it."
"See this is why I come to you, Frankie. You're a freakin' genius."
Vinnie's up to V-163 now.
Don't drink it.