This, you think is ridiculous. Shyanne is in to some weird science stuff -but this is more the realm of science fiction. The time that she magnetized the jungle gym, reversing it's polarity and shooting it into low earth orbit - now THAT was weird, but this takes the cake. At least the jungle gym was plausible.
You look at the glass of soda, the currents in the liquid forming intricate patterns on the surface. The hint of grape hangs in the air, sent aloft by the bubbly carbonation. You steal a quick glance at Shyanne's beaming face. She blinks at you, as you make eye contact.
"Go on - it's harmless."
"Harmless."
"Completely."
What the hell - at the very least, it'll keep her from pestering you for the rest of the day. Steeling yourself against destiny, you bring the glass to your lips. The bubbles from the 7-up tickle your nose. 1-2-3-gulp.
You swing down mouthful after mouthful of the pop. The 7-up has a faint taste of grapes processed by chemicals. There is a distinct metallic flavor to the drink. After several long seconds, you cough - unable to drink any more in one shot. You take a deep breath as you brace yourself for . . . whatever.
You lean back in the kitchen chair, the wicker pressing into your back. The coolness of the glass pressed up against your palm refreshes on the warm summer day. You wait . . . and wait . . . and wait.
"Well?"
Shyanne grimaces. "Hmmm, I must have gotten something wrong." She said, sniffing at the rim of the small blue crystal bottle. You smile inwardly at the bemused look on her face, when . . .
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