This drink has been taken off the shelves and out of the coolers in New York - it's alcohol and caffeine content are up in the clouds.

Yup, we have some in my house via 1/8 Pole. These "tall boys" have made people go nuts in the city and they work just as well out on Long Island.

I grabbed a slurp. It was horrible.

I'm 62. If I was a young Marine in a muddy ditch again with a 4-man rifleteam we would have thrown Fukko Loco at the enemy.

Jeez, you can't want to get buzzed that bad.

I am going to regret this in the morning.

Lord, I snapped another swallow at almost 2 a.m.

It tastes like gopher urine and it drives people crazy.

My son is looking for the car keys to go out and go nuts and get arrested.

I'm just happy as an old fart that I can go to bed after a few beers without going bonkers or getting arrested.

Not a lot of good happens after midnight whether you are 20 or 60 - especially after some drinks.

Well, maybe some good things happen when you are in your 20s but even when I was living at home at 21 as a single fellow after 4 years regular in the Marine Corps I knew enough about what to drink.

North Carolina moonshine and home-made Panther Piss overseas were well known to me.

I knew wonderful fantastic Marines that weren't worth a crap for a day after drinking except to kill somebody.

And none of us had Fukko Loco. That stuff is bad news - I had some sips earlier tonight.

Four Loko is much better when topped off with 60 proof whipped cream.

I am no longer going to drink that.

Can you tell the story again about drinking moonshine and waking up in a North Carolina creek bed without any clothes? That was a good one.

OK - one more time.

I was 18 and stationed at Camp LeJeune, North Carolina as an infantryman with 2nd Battalion, 6th Marines. I was with F Company, weapons platoon in a machine gun section. I was making $90 a month.

Spring of 1966 (I think it was April) and it's payday Friday and I get my $40 after taxes (we got paid twice a month). I go into Jacksonville on the liberty bus and start heading to the gin mills on the white side of town (yup, you heard right - the "white side of town" - it was 1966). Anyway, instead of blowing my money on bad beer I buy a $5 Hellman's Mayonnaise quart jar full of North Carolina corn liquor with three other Marines. It is clear and looks like water.

I have no recollection of the rest of the night and I just thank God I had the weekend off.

I wake up under daylight staring at the sky all alone but don't know where I am. I see woods all around me and know that I am hurting. I lift my head to look down and am horrified to see that I am naked except for socks. My training kicks in and I check for wounds - there aren't any.

I sit up and look around. I am laid out in a dry stream bed wearing nothing but socks but otherwise intact. I hear ka-thump ka-thump behind me and take a look - a vehicle has just gone over the highway bridge that spans the dry stream I'm in.

I start to get up and know I need some help - a North Carolina policeman with a blanket for the naked Yankee idiot would have been most welcome. And then I see something - in a circle within 20 or 30 yards of me are articles of clothing. They're mine! I find everything I wore the night before - my uderwear, my shirt, my trousers, my shoes, and my jacket. I find my wallet in my pants pocket and my military ID and my money are still there. I get dressed and go up to the two-lane highway.

I don't know where I am or where Camp LeJeune is but I put my thumb out. A farmer stops to give me a lift in his pickup. I was thumbing in the right direction on a 50/50 chance and tell him what happened. The man was WWII Army and told me that I was in Snead's Ferry and that I was lucky that stream wasn't running. I was on NC Rte. 17 a long way from Camp LeJeune. The man went way out of his way to get me back to my base. He got on base and brought me back to my barracks - he didn't have to do that. I was happy to learn it was Saturday morning and that I was still on liberty until Monday.

I cannot remember that man's name but I will never forget the kindness he displayed and what that WWII North Carolina veteran told me, "Larry, do not ever drink again something in North Carolina that you can see through. It ain't water you dumb shit Yankee."

True story and Grits from North Carolina had a wonderful laugh when she first heard it.

And no, I have no idea how I got to Snead's Ferry that night after 44 years.

And no, I never drank moonshine again. And yes, I'm glad it was a very warm April night back in 1966.

Thank you, QP. Nothing like a good chuckle before bed time.