Hokey and I stood outside the gas station. Once again, she had ruined my brilliant plans. I threw my hands up in frustration. "You’re starting to sound like Mama with all this ‘save the world’ nonsense. Honestly, it’s like you got all the good genes or something. Either do it right or stay home next time, okay?"
I took a deep breath and snapped my fingers. Flames burst from my hair, racing to meet the dormant gas pumps. An instant later, the station erupted in a flash explosion. "See?" I said, a smile creeping across my face. "That is how you get rid of a gas station."
Hokey stared at the inferno for a moment before nodding. I couldn’t help but worry about her. She never seemed to share my enthusiasm for chaos, which I found odd since we were twins.
Work done for the day, we started our walk home. The streets were alive with the usual bizarre sights: aberrant aspics, beery beggars, cloned cavies, desultory desserts, edible elms, feisty fruit, ghetto gentlemen, hoity toity hookworms, incendiary ivory tusks, jugular jokers, kittenish knuckleheads, lively lasses, messy messengers, Norwegian noodles, optimistic orangutans, peevish pewits, queen sized quinches, rowdy ravers, sleazy sheriffs, trendy teachers, unconvincing ulcers, venerable vampires, wise waffles, youthful yogis and zany zebras.
They were all waiting in line for the vaccination against the latest disease I had invented. I called it the Soda Turner Infection, or STI. The line stretched as far as I could see, probably all the way around the world. I couldn’t understand why they were so afraid of turning into soda. Personally, I thought it was a great outcome. More soda to drink! I just hoped most of them would turn into grape soda.
"Have you had your vaccination?" Hokey asked in a croaky voice.
"Why would I need it?" I scoffed. "I’m Dragona, creator of chaos. No infection would dare touch me without facing the consequences."
Hokey didn’t say another word.
A warm breeze brushed across my afro, and suddenly I felt a chill snake through my body.
"It’s freezing!" I shouted, shivering as goosebumps spread up and down my arms. I started running for home. Hokey just shook her head and followed. She already knew what was happening to me.
I sprinted into my room, dove into bed, and grabbed one of Mama’s heat potions. I emptied it over my head, desperate for warmth. "Hokey, what are you doing? Why are you getting into the cupboard?" My teeth chattered so loudly I could barely hear myself speak.
Hokey didn’t answer. She climbed into her spider cupboard and shut the door behind her.
The next moments became a blur. The warmth never came, and my skin began to tingle. I remember reaching for the blankets, but it was too late.
Do you remember me? I’m Dragona, the poisonous orange soda. You might recall me from my last story, the one where I was turning into a soda.
This is the end for me. It’s only been three minutes since I turned into this cursed drink, but I think Mama is getting thirsty. And Hokey, my dear twin sister, is twirling her hair, her gaze lingering on me in a way that makes my insides fizz with panic.
I might have mere nanoseconds or five hours left to live. Oh, the agony. Why did my own invention betray me? Why would the Soda Turner Infection turn on its creator?
There are too many questions and not enough answers.
MAMA IS REACHING FOR ME!
HELP!