In my veins instead of blood are Pop Rocks in a variety of flavors. I tell anyone who will listen, whenever the conversation turns even remotely to the circulatory system or candy. Occasionally a jokester tells me my story is “sweet” and winks so I get the joke.
Once at a dinner party, just for kicks, I stabbed myself in the thigh with a steak knife. My life wasn’t saved by any of the adults, but by little Johnny Jameson, who had the smarts to apply his mouth to my wound. It’s a good thing sour grape was his favorite!