I heard about alchemy when I was quite young, and was rather taken with the idea of spontaneous generation of life and the homonculus.
(A homonculus is a human that is neither concieved nor gestated in a human female, but rather the product of wierd chemical concoctions and odd procedures)
Anyway, I read about this stuff and thought I'd try my hand at spontaneously generating life, or even making a homonculus. I drank a soda.
I then took the soda bottle(glass) and filled it half way with water. My family was going on a road trip that summer, and every time we stopped I found a little something special to put in that bottle. Dead animals, weird goo from under counters of resturants, grit and soot, chemicals, that sort of thing.
I kept it hidden in an out of the way corner in the back of the van. It stewed.
Someone found it after a few weeks, and I don't know if it was alive but something was forming in there, and the concerned party wanted me to toss it, which I wouldn't stand for.
So we needed a name for this real gross thing that little Nick was keeping in a bottle, and since it was rotten, and nothing you'd want to drink, and I got rather irate when someone tried to take it from me, it got dubbed "rotten sourpuss".
When we got home early that fall they made me keep it outside, but it only lasted a few days till the pressure inside from all the decay finaly made it rupture. To this day grass does not grow in the scene of the crime.
True story;
Anyway, half way through this trip, everybody decided they were going to buy a big cheese wheel for lunch for some damn reason, and they need a knife to cut it. The anonymous party had lent me their SAK, and I'd been periodicaly opening and stirring the rotten sourpuss with it in order to help my homonculus along.
It's worth noting that only one person, the owner of the knife, knew what rotten sourpuss was at this point...
Well, I tried to tell everybody that they didn't want to eat anything that'd been cut with the knife, and that I for damn sure wasn't going to, but they kept telling me to shut my trap and let them eat lunch and if I didn't want any cheese too bad.
Well, by then they'd finished cutting the cheese and were in the act of eating it, I spoke up once again to warn them, when one turned around, chewing cheese as she spoke and said "Shut up! We're eating!", I replied "but, but, THE ROTTEN SOURPUSS!".
Well, the person who knew what that was just froze right there with this expression of pure dread on his face while everyone stopped what they were doing and looked to him for an explanation.
It was about then that I produced the bottle from it's secret hiding spot.
So that's the legend of the rotten sourpuss, and one of the worst things I've ever done to anyone, and the most disgusting thing I've ever done with a knife.
Now that you know what rotten sourpuss is, you can start a roadtrip tradition with your families.