What Do You Get When You Mix Fanta With...

    

It was this past September. It was a Wednesday. It wasn't a very special day. Despite not knowing the actual date on the calendar because I made an effort to actively forget it, it is a date which will live in infamy, no matter how long it may take us to overcome that disgusting memory. I was sitting at my table with my usual comrades; Jake Sims, Joey Lorenz, Luke Fowler, and Max Benjamin. These fellas are the most notable players in this gruesome tale, and even though there are others, we'll remove their names from this manuscript out of good will. It all started when Luke Fowler sat down next to me. He held a cup of Fanta in his hand, and if you don't recall what Fanta is, it is bright orange and tastes like, you guessed it, oranges. He sat down, put his cup down, and started chowing down on his pizza. After examining his arrival for a second, I turned back to converse with Max about what makes Fallout 4 a great game. We continued this conversation for another few minutes, me offering my opinion on why the Brotherhood of Steel is the best faction, when I hear someone yell, "Dude, that's disgusting!". Being a human being, I was inclined to look in the direction of the shout and search for what was being referred to. I wish I hadn't.
     In front of me, RIGHT UNDER MY NOSE, was the grossest concoction of godawful ingredients I had ever seen. Luke Fowler did less eating and more shoving all of the items of his lunch into one cup of Orange Fanta. I gagged. Not only was I able to pick out with my eyes pepperoni, but I also saw pizza crust, mustard, and skittles. The fanta was no longer its original color. If there was a new Crayola color being released, and they wanted it to embody hell on earth, I would submit that cacophony of colors. Somehow, red, green, orange, and yellow all blended together into a disturbing medley. But for some reason, I could not take my eyes off of it. I was astounded and completely flabbergasted. I continued to stare at that cursed cocktail, and would look at my friend Luke, slowly turning into a tomato from lack of breathing. He found enjoyment out of the horrible mess that was in front of us all. We begged him to remove it. I guess he thought we asked him to put some more items into the sadistic stew. We weren't laughing at this point. It was funny, but the kind of funny that makes you horrified at the same time. And it was still in front of me. Thankfully, as if some higher power was looking out for my well-being, announcements began, so I was forced to turn around and remove it from my sight. But I felt a tap on my shoulder. And a shove. And a stench. A horrid stench. I turned.
     "PLEASE STOP!" I yelled as I nearly dodged the cup being shoved right under my nose. I almost died there. Merely catching a whiff was enough to leave me reeling. He was asking if people wanted to try some. For money. I would rather do homework for 10 hours straight than to put that poison in my body. At least, in one of those options, I would die doing something I knew was productive. Our table decided to join together to end this once and for all. We all collectively asked Fowler to put it in the middle of the table. But no one would touch it after that. Soon, announcements ended, and we had a problem. "It" was still there, ruining the air in a 2-foot radius around it. I sighed, a sigh that lets people know that you have resigned to once again doing something stupid so you could help your friend. I reached for it, and grasped it in an outstretched hand. I shuddered. Somehow touching it felt like the toxicity would diffuse through the plastic and straight into my pores, infecting my very being. But I made it. I ran as quick as I could to a trash can and dumped the contents inside. I am almost positive that the solution could have burned a hole through the trash bag. But the deed was done. It was gone. And I was alive.
     I proceeded to go see my friends walking back to the Upper School. I had a permanent scowl on my face for the next two minutes. They laughed. I cried to myself. And I don't know how many times I punched Fowler. It continues to haunt me, to this day, and I feel as though some of it will forever be left within me, ingrained in my brain, a memento to the very depths of human stupidity.
By the way, Luke Fowler and I are best friends. We still are, and we will continue to be. So don't worry! I don't want to throttle him (all the time)!