It worked when my mom did it. She’d chopped up a bunch of veggies, put them in her Ninja and swirled the hell out of them. When she’d first told me about her Ninja I thought perhaps she’d hired a security system—as in a small green turtle with karate moves.
My father walked by without making eye contact. “Do you want a veggie smoothie?” I asked.
“No. If I’m going to drink my vegetables I’ll have a can of V-8. Preferably with Stoli,” he said.
“I think that defeats the purpose,” my mother replied. We sanctimoniously toasted to our good health. We drank it. It tasted okay.
When I got home I took a look in our vegetable compartment. We had spinach, carrots, celery, tomatoes and cucumbers. That seemed like a good mix. I figured I’d make my own V-8 sans the Stoli. I added some garlic, a dash of ketchup and this hemp seed stuff we’d been using in our oatmeal. It’s supposed to help with inflammation. This was like nature’s perfect food. I juiced away. I took a taste. It didn’t taste like V-8. Maybe some salt and pepper. I whirled again.
I poured two glasses and took one to Layce. She was reading in the den. “I brought you lunch.”
“What is that?” She said, studying the glass.
Now, I admit it didn’t look good. It was kind of an orange, green, and chunky kind of thing. In hindsight, I should have used a non-see-through glass. The presentation would’ve been better.
“It’s a veggie smoothie, super healthy, low in calories and tastes like V-8,” I said, putting on my best imitation of a used car salesman. “Just try it.”
“You go first,” Layce said.
“All right,” I said. I took a large swallow and managed not to gag. “See, it’s fine.”
Layce eyed me suspiciously. I took another swallow. “I can feel myself getting healthier just standing here.”
She sniffed it. She tried to swirl it around like a wine taster. It didn’t budge. Finally she took the plunge. Now in hindsight again—don’t stand in front of someone when they’re having a veggie smoothie for the first time. She blinked. She tried to swallow, she gagged. And then she spewed a veggie smoothie projectile that managed to avoid hitting the carpet because it hit me instead.
I looked down at my T-shirt. “I didn’t think it was that bad.”
“It needs definitely needs vodka to kill the taste,” Layce said.