(Rage Cartoon at the bottom)
“Hokey!”
I shouted, “Can’t you do anything right?! I told you to use your cell phone
while we were standing at the gas station, so it could blow up. But what does
miss-oh-I-don’t-want-to-listen-to-Dragona’s-plans do? She buys a plastic phone
because she doesn’t want her cell phone to get blasted.”
Hokey
and I were standing outside a gas station. Once again, she had foiled my
brilliant plans. “I swear you are becoming just like Mama; all this ‘save the
world’ junk. Honestly, it’s as if you got the good genes,” I ranted again
whilst stomping my feet on the ground and waving my arms in frustration. “Do it
right or stay at home next time. Ok?”
I
took a deep breath and snapped my fingers. Fire erupted from my hair and rushed
to meet the dormant gas pumps, awakening them in a flash explosion. “See? That
is how you get rid of a gas station.” Hokey looked at the fiery hell that was
the gas station and nodded. I worry a lot about Hokey. She doesn’t seem to have
the same need to cause chaos. I find that strange because we are twins.
Work done
for the day, I began our journey home. The sights on the way home were the same:
aberrant aspics, beery beggars, cloned cavies, desultory desserts, edible elms,
feisty fruit, ghetto gentleman, hoity-toity hookworms, incendiary ivory tusks,
jugular jokers, kittenish knuckle-heads, 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. All were waiting in
line for the vaccination for the latest disease, one that I had invented. I
called it the Soda Turner Disease, S.T.D for short. The line for the vaccination stretched all the way
around the world from what I could see. People or things seemed afraid of
turning into soda. What’s the deal? It means we have more soda to drink. I just
hope that a majority of them turn into grape soda. “Have you had your
vaccination?” Hokey croaked.
“Why
would I need it? I am DRAGONA, chaos creator; no S.T.D will touch me
without consequences.” Hokey kept quiet.
A
warm breeze ruffled the top of my afro and suddenly I felt very cold.
“It’s
freezing!” I shouted while I started to run home. Goosebumps were rippling up
and down my arms. Hokey shook her head and followed. She already knew what was
to become of me.
I
sprinted into bed and emptied one of Mama’s heat potions onto my head. “Hokey,
what are you doing? Why are you getting in the cupboard?” My teeth were chattering
so loudly they almost blocked out my words. Hokey ignored me and hopped into
her spider cupboard.
This
is the last thing I remember doing before I began to turn into a soda. Do you remember
me? I’m Dragona the poisonous orange soda. You might remember me from my
previous story: when I was turning into a soda.
My demise is imminent. It has only
been three minutes since I turned into a soda but I think Mama is getting
thirsty. And Hokey, my dear twin sister, is twirling her hair around her
fingers, in a way that suggests she is also thirsty. I might have a few
nanoseconds or five hours left to live as a soda! Oh the agony! Where
are my other memories? Why did the soda disease turn on its creator? Oh they
are too many questions!
MAMA IS REACHING FOR ME!
HELP!
