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Story of a Soda
“So tell us why you’ve come in today, Mr. Pepsi.”
“Well, it all started when I was born in a factory in Connecticut. At first, I felt proud to be a Pepsi. I wasn’t any no-name soon-to-be-discontinued brand being shoved in the back of a fridge, I was a top-seller. I had something inside of me that people actually craved for. I dare you to name one non-alcoholic party you’ve ever gone to where someone didn’t shout ‘Hey Frank, throw me a Pepsi from the cooler!’"
"What about Coke?"
"Please Doctor, one therapy session at a time. But that’s what I thought my purpose in life was for, to bring joy to the people, especially at parties. Well, I bet some of the thousands of my luckier siblings showed up at those parties but that’s certainly not where I went.
“You see, when you and the rest of your identical siblings are shipped off in that truck nobody ever tells you where you’re gonna go next. They just throw those weird plastic loopy things on your head, you know, the ones that choke the dolphins and stuff, which connect you to an entire case-full of sodas. Then they packaged us in these claustrophobia-inducing cardboard boxes and tossed us in the back of some truck. It was cramped in there too, and that’s not fun when they guy next to you won’t shut up the entre ride. We get it, you're the diet version. There's no reason to anounce it to the entire truck. It was so dark. Like, the can’t-see-your-shiny-logo-in-front-of-you dark. What made it worse was the driver's apparent and dangerous fixation for and sharp turns stomping on the gas. Every few minutes I was faced with the threat of being flung in the air and crashing into other boxes of soda’s crammed in a corner. Oh, it was awful!
“But my newfound claustrophobia wasn’t even the worst part of it! After they took us out of the truck they carried us into this really cold building. There were isles upon isles of packaged soda cans and other edible products behind slidng doors with no means of escape. Everything was assigned its own label and place and how much it was worth. All of these factors determined where these poor souls would end up. Our place just happened to be inside of a fridge. Do you hear what I’m telling you, doctor?! These sicko’s stuck us in a fridge!”
The therapist nodded in agreement as he scribbled something down on his yellow notepad.
“It was a terrifying kind of misery in there!” The beaten Pepsi can continued, “The cold air would bite at my aluminum for days! It felt like my label would fall off. The worst part was watching the people pass by and just hoping, praying that you’re on their shopping list and they’ll take you out so they can presumably toss you into a warm backseat in their van! But for a very long time nobody ever grabbed us. But none of that torture compared to when someone did buy us!”
The Pepsi was silent for a few moments.
“What happened?” The doctor asked, looking up from his notes.
“Oh, I don’t think I want to get into this…”
“Go on, just let it out.”
The Pepsi shuddered. He sucked in a breath, and puffed it out of his hollow chest. “We were purchased by these huge, uneducated baboons in football jerseys. They carelessly tossed us into the back of their truck. We could hear the hooting and hollering even from back there. Since they didn’t care about their behavior in public, you can only imagine how exhibited themselves in their own homes. My first thought when they lugged us into the door was ‘Holy pop! There’s more of them!”
“And then what happened?”
“Well, they were all surrounding the TV, yelling something about a Super bowl. I can only assume it was some kind of ritual, since they were stomping and shouting incoherent nonsense. When they got bored their would leer over to us. That’s when the horror began. Their thick fingers proceded to crack open the tops of our heads and shoved us to their disgusting mouths to guzzle down everything inside of us! They didn’t even shave! They had no mercy! Even after they took everything out of me the ape who had me in his hand began to tighten his grip on me. Not only was this not helping the claustrophobia problem, but it was excruciatingly painful. But this guy wouldn’t stop. He just closed his hand tighter and tighter and tighter until CRUNCH.
“Oh the pain! The terror! The terrible pain! Though the loss of my cylindrical form was nothing compared to what my other Pepsi companions received. This one soda, the chatterbox who was next to me, was in the hands of one of these guys. You’d think it would be enough just to crunch this poor can in his hand, but no! The guy took it to the next level by placing this poor Pepsi on the center of his palm and then smashing him onto his forehead!”
“Oh, how awful!” said the doctor, wincing
“Yeah! The Pepsi was just flat as a Frisbee! I’m getting the chills just thinking about it.”
“How on Earth did you survive?”
“Well, the guy who had me threw me away. Tossed me out like a piece of trash! And he didn’t even have the decency to put me in the recycling bin! Then somehow I ended up here.”
“That’s a dreadful story.”
“Well, I think our sessions don for the day.”
“Okay. Thank you. I guess I’ll see you next week, Dr. Pepper.”