Big Red

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“That’ll be $4.99,” the cashier said as he slid the cans of Big Red soda to the grocery bagger. “What flavor is that stuff, anyways? Cherry? Strawberry?”

“I don’t know,” I answered, “but I haven’t drank one in twelve years. It’s hard to find Big Red in this part of the country, but I sure loved it as a kid.”

“Whoops!” the female bagger shouted. “Slipped right out of my hands.” The thin cardboard container split and three cans fell on the hard floor. One can squirted red foam while spinning like a top. The fumes of the fragrance spewed everywhere.

“Yep, I think its cherry flavored,” the cashier confirmed.

“That is so awesome!” I couldn’t help experiencing the scientific beauty of the carbonation acting as a nuclear fuel to perpetually spin the can. The red, slippery liquid splayed a bright pool of pink on the cement. One can was lost, but there were still eleven left. I was already dreaming of pouring one over a tall glass of ice as soon as I got home.

“I’ll mop it up,” the bagger said. “Victor, can you run back and get this customer another box of Big Red?”

“Don’t worry,” I said. “How ’bout just deducting the cost of one can and we can call it even?”

“No problem,” the cashier said. “We can’t sell these bent cans to you. Watch your step and don’t slip.”

“Give me a towel,” I said. “I don’t mind helping.”

“Don’t worry, sir,” Victor already returned with a fresh box of sodas. “Thank you for shopping Friendly Pete’s. Have a nice evening.”

 

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