Old Stuff Collection: Confessions of A Timid Pop Can

In seventh grade we were required to write a short story about a soda can. I have no idea why. Many things in this story make no sense; for one, what are a variety of different sodas in the same box? There are also misusages of words, but I was 12 so forgive me.

Confessions of A Timid Pop Can

"I loved my home at the soda factory. There were many ethnicities, and different pop cultures. I was a Pepsi filled with sweet sugar, and had many friends.One soon-to-be gruesome day, I had a box-party, prepared for a rapturous afternoon of merriment, which, as I later found out, was not how it turned out to be.

"All my friends came, including my boyfriend Sprite, who was a DJ. Everyone loved Sprite's remixes, and fizzed joyfully over how Big Red had so much caffeine, making him the most annoying factory civilian.

"Suddenly, a giant - with hands like rough cloth, eyes like darts, and a voice like thunder - grabbed each of us by our waists, threw us in a box, and slammed the door shut, locking us in!" I cried to my counselors, Dr.Pepper and Mr. Pibb. They glared at me dolefully, and I knew they wondered what this monster that kidnapped us was.

"What happened next?" asked Dr. Pepper curiously.

"I don't wanna talk about it anymore," I decided, fiddling with my tin cap.

"Just please describe it to us as best as you can," pleaded Mr.Pibb, anxious to hear the rest of my vicious tale.

"I don't wanna, I tell you!" I spat, shaking with fury and irritation. "The memory of it destroyed my life!"

"If you won't speak to us, why come in the first place?" Dr.Pepper pointed out with a frown, stealing a glance at the clock. "I have a meeting at 3:00!"

"Fine," I muttered, slumping in my chair. My eyes swelled with tears, feeling afflicted by the experience.

"What?"

"I SAID I'LL TELL YOU, YOU IDIOTS!!" I shouted. They dropped their steno pads and pens with surprise, gazing into my eyes, freaked out by my aggressivness. Well, hello? I have every right to yell, seeing as how I'm the only can alive who knows about the actual horrors of life.

"Well, my parents disappeared that day," I began again, looking down miserably. The doctors didn't speak, so I continued. "I never saw them again, after being taken away by those blood-sucking scoundrels. They crammed us all into that miserable box, which was gloomy and nauseating.

"Oh, this traumatic catastrophe is one I will never manage to forget. I was only just a youngster, so this incident will haunt my life from the time it happened to the day I decay.

"Anyway, what happened was, we were put in this wall. The beasts called it 'Wal-Mart,' which meant we were for sale, or something. Like we were slaves!

"Although Sprite and my other friends were there, I was still apprehensive and blah. One day, after an endless, exhausting week, an elderly woman ambled by and said, to herself, 'My grandchildren are as stale as a year-old loaf of bread! They need a sweetening. These sodas will do the trick. Those attitudes...'"

"The next thing we knew, we were moving down this strange mat. It was pretty graceful actually - although I still wanted to barf up my calories - until we got to the CASHIER." Dr.Pepper and Mr. Pibb shrieked, and toppled off their chairs. I snickered, loving the way those menacing popheads freaked out like that.

"Not...not the CASHIER!" wailed Mr. Pibb, shuddering.

"Yes. The Cashier," I replied, a wicked grin spreading across my face like peanut butter. "You know what THAT means."

"No, don't say it!" cried Dr.Pepper gutlessly. Those idiots. They had no idea that getting all excited like that would only lead me on.

"The SCANNER," I cackled, emphasizing on the word. Boy, was that a mistake. Both doctors started panicking and ran around the room like nut-cased whackos. I had the mentality to understand that the "S" word was impracticable, but saying it was supposed to amuse me, knowing that these so-called psychiatrists would scudder around like cockroaches, covering their ears and screeching at the top of their lungs. But at the moment I found it vexatious, because I wanted to get to the point.

"ANYWAY, the..."

"Don't say it!" squeaked Mr.Pibb, shaking uncontrollably.

"I'll call it the Hoobla," I said.

"Yes, please do," nodded Dr.Pepper, relaxing.

"So, the 'Hoobla's' intense radiation alarmed us, and we could feel our metallic crusts melting, our insides were splashing around like tsunamis. Although it was incredibly painful, nobody died.

"But not for long. After a bumpy ride in a suffocating, air-less damp area, where we slid around everywhere, we were taken out and soon after placed in a cool, wonderful surface. The peephole in front of me displayed a vase with attractive, scented objects popping out of it.

"Two mini-sized humans, called grandchildren, tore apart the box, and one of those horrific beings pulled Sprite's head off and gulped up his insides! I sobbed hysterically, and his limp body was crushed, then thrown into a green bin with three white arrows pointing around in a circle.

"Slowly, my pals disappeared one by one, and finally, I was the last one left. One day, while I was asleep, a grandchild grabbed me, just like the guys at the factory did, around my waist. He picked at my head. I groaned with pain, but he wasn't able to rip me apart.

"'Grandma!' he had cried, 'I can't get my soda open!' The Grandma entered the room and immediately, the kid tossed me into the air. The lethargic woman missed me! I fell on the ground, and it nearly killed me.

"But not quite. My insides squirmed and fizzed. It was horrible! My sticky brown blood leaked slowly out, and I was picked up and thrown into a large, white can with a steep depth. I fell and fell, and landed on a number of incredibly stinky items!

"A few days later, a large monster dumped me here which I made my new home. So here I live, and have sheltered for eight miserable years." The room was silent except for the breaths of the doctors and I. I swear, I could have heard an atom drop.

"Well, thank you," Dr.Pepper finally said awkwardly. "Please come again." And the two dudes ran the heck outta there.

Come again? As if.

Factoid This, Bitch

This Factoid Friday thing is really pissing me off. We're supposed to choose a controversial topic and argue in defense of our stance. It's a year long project and every Friday, and we add another small fact to our folder. At the end of it, we're to write a persuasive paper about our topic. Every now and then we're supposed to present an "infomercial" to the class, and the first was today.

But you know what? I decided I don't give a shit anymore. About any of it. What the hell is up with this controversial crap anyway? Why the hell can't we just live simple bronze age lives, not giving a damn about what the rest of the world is doing? What's so great about being in touch with what the whole planet is up to? I used to care a great deal, and all I ever got out of it was pessimism, misery, and an, "I'll never be happy until everyone else is happy with me" attitude. Ever since I dropped it all and began at the very beginning - which is making myself and my closest friends and family happy before I try to be Wonderwoman and save the world - I've been a truly happy person. Besides, what if the world doesn't WANT to be saved? There are way too many views that would clash.

Sure, computers are fun and I'm the laziest person you'll ever meet, but I would much rather live in an ancient river valley working my butt off for food and just living the happy, simple life with my loved ones and share their beliefs and traditions instead of getting lectured for every fucking thing that comes out of my mouth.

Perhaps ignorance isn't an admirable trait in somebody, and I seem to be promoting it, but what I'm really promoting is simplicity. It's not like I'm trying to shove my personal beliefs down people's throats or attack people who don't believe as I do. All it is is a matter of perception and no matter how much we argue about something, people's minds will only change when they see the truth for themselves - which, for many moral issues we debate about today, does not exist. Almost everything is subjective.

If you're against abortion, nothing you do will prevent people from having them. If you think it's wrong to be gay, nothing you do will stop the fags from fucking. The only thing that will come out of your pro and anti babble is more conflict.

So if you're against abortion, don't have one. If gay acts are sinful to you, don't engage in them. If you don't like drugs, don't use them. If you think eating meat is wrong, then by god don't eat it! Just leave everyone else the fuck alone.

The only thing most of us agree on is that we would all like to lead happy lives, and not creating conflict where it isn't necessary is the first step to take. Do what makes you happy, but in such a way that it won't get in the way of other people's right to the pursuit of happiness. And for fuck's sake, stop all the fighting!

End of angry rant.