After surviving an invasion by a foreign royal lineage, beheading the Groom of the Stool (it’s a legit title! look it up!), tooting the court jester’s horn and making a gratuitous dictatorship pun,

I have hereby abandoned the royal wee, abdicated the porcelain throne and rejoined the peasantry in the Commonwealth of Arby’s.

All Liquids Day!

(I’m capitalizing it now because it’s fast-tracked to be designated a national holiday and I don’t want to have to search through my archives to update this post.)

I’m more than happy to spend the day consuming nothing but not-alarming-when-it-comes-back-out-red liquids, but it would be immeasurably easier if the hospital’s instructions didn’t make things on its do-not-eat list sound so deliciously tempting:

And so it begins:

The Fiber Finals. The Pulp Probation. The White-Bread Warm-Up. The Mushy-Foods Marathon. The Deliciousness Death March. The Canned-Food Commencement. The Plain-Jell-O Purgatory. The Soft-Bananas Smackdown. The Hearty-Foods Hunger Games. The Pudding Punishment. The Corn-Flakes Correction. The Wet-Noodles Weariness. The Plain-Crackers Plague. The Clear-Broth Commencement. The Full-Grain Forfeiture. THE COLONOSCOPY COUNTDOWN.