Waiting for the murder ballad show to start, I started passing out fake blood capsules so that we could all be indicating signs of internal bleeding, or just give good-natured fight club grins now and again.
Praba understood how to use them: popping two, snapping them hard and kicking her head to the side to start the flow out the corner of her mouth. Sue and Lisa declined to employ the device. I waited with a few in my mouth until the gelatin started to weaken, then spit out the contents. It really was bad tasting. How can anything not bad for you taste quite that bad? It had to be bad for you and no one was telling. I popped another.
Alan had a handful and when I looked over to him to see how he was doing, a three foot thread of drool was coming out of his mouth. It wasn’t even tinted pink. He was just standing on stage, playing bass, and drooling this massive drool.
So, yeah these things work perfectly.