So, this boy walks up to a bar and...

...his name is Max. And it just so happens the pool bartender is making slushees. And she has grape.

"UR-UL!!! UR-UL!!!" Max says.

As his faithful translator, I do my job: "He is really into purple," I say, "and he would like a purple slushee."

Max watches with glee as she proceeds to make said purple slushee. First she goes to pour a batch of ice into one of the blenders.

"Nooooooo," says Max, and he gestures at the empty blender standing next to it.

"He would like you to use the other blender," says his faithful translator.

The bartender looks a little perplexed, but it passes; surely she has heard all sorts of requests over the years, and at least this customer isn't inebriated or slurring his speech. OK, he IS slurring his speech but that's a whole other story.

She switches the ice to the second blender.

"Noooooooo," says Max, because he can be quite fickle that way.

"He'd like you to put the ice in the original blender," I say, matter-of-factly.

She switches blenders, no questions asked. Then she pours in the grape concoction and starts the whirring. Max is mesmerized. I am, too; a blender pulsating with purple is a wondrous site. Better even than lava lamps or other stuff we'd stare at in college when we were in a certain state.

Once it's slush-ified, she pours it into a cup and hands it over. Max literally does a Purple Slushee Happy Dance. He has to be the happiest customer she's had in a long time, despite the fact that she did not even put a tiny umbrella in there.

"UR-UL!" Max says, happily, and I give him a sip.

Ur-ul slushees rock.