7 Bottles Of Chicken Essence A Day Is How My Child Will Ace The O-Levels
As a loving mother of three handsome boys, I'm willing to do whatever it takes for my youngest to ace the O-level exams tomorrow. And if that means Timothy will have to resort to guzzling down seven bottles of chicken essence in one day, then that's what is going to happen.
I've been told that essence of chicken is rich in nutrients that increases attenuation of physical and mental fatigue.
Now, I'm no rocket scientist. But if their marketing is telling me it's good for my kid then I'm perfectly willing to take these facts wholesale, and Timothy jolly well drink up.
I don't care if the recommended usage advises against more than three bottles a day. I also don't really care whether he consumes Brand's or New Moon's chicken's essence. What I do care about is Timothy chugs down at least forty-nine bottles of that black tasty beverage over the course of one week.
I'm not going to lie: his health isn't my biggest priority right now. Getting my little Timmy into a junior college and subsequently a local university to escape a life of mediocrity is.
The way I see it, 200 bottles of chicken essence in a month sounds like a small price to pay for exemplary grades doesn't it?
After all, no harm right? Does any mother in their right mind think that those top scoring students we see on bus stop adverts limited themselves to only a bottle a day?
Sure, you may be asking yourself if seven bottles is taking it a little too far. What if he falls sick from overconsumption and ends up not even being able to take the papers? Fair enough. But then, did anyone ever reach great heights without taking things "a little too far?" Would Steve Jobs have elevated Apple to where it was today if he didn't went against his board of directors to prioritise innovation over everything else? Would Christopher Columbus have discovered new lands if he was worried of pirates that would love nothing more than to leave him penniless and gut him ear to ear?
I'm not forcing it upon my little Timmy. But God forbid if his own mother won't push him to work a little harder. If it takes a good caning on the backside to make him finish the daily quota of seven, then I'm putting it on myself as my motherly duty.
