The nightmare on Aisle 13

The Nightmare on Aisle Three Christopher Walkman is a man of the age of 25, with sandy hair and gray

eyes and a love of suicide. The drink kind, you know, where you get a bit of every soda at a soda fountain. He lives in a large 4,000 sq ft house in Roanoke, Texas. Alone, except for two goldfish, that he won at a carnival when he was ten. His parents had been murdered a year after that when he was eleven, and his grandma took him in. Later on, when he helped his grandma redo the sprinkler system in her front yard, he found 3 billion dollars in a buried trunk on the outskirts of his property, so he also has a large chance of becoming batman. His grandma, whose name was Agrippa, which literally meant "Feet first" went to the police with the money, but there were no ties from the money to anyone, so the money became Christopher's. Agrippa died when he was a legal adult at the age of 19. Four years later he then moved to a small town, next to Fort

Worth, Texas, called Roanoke living off his money with no job.

One day when Christopher Walkman went to get the mail, he decided to look at Sunday newspaper, something he was always afraid to do, lest he become one of those old people that sit on their rocking chairs and read the newspaper while smoking a pipe, or drinking tea. Christopher unfolded the newspaper warily and looked inside. He saw some comics, some crossword puzzles, and advertisements for some things, but one thing caught his eye.

He wasn't really sure why it caught his eye, but he looked at it closer. Turns out, it was just an ad for a convenience store being built. It said its grand opening would be two years from then.

He continued living his somewhat uneventful life not doing much but hanging out with some of his friends, golfing, bowling, and living the rich, but boring life. Christopher Walkman grew bored with his life so he drowned himself and his sorrows in his love of soda. He was browsing a gourmet soda website when he found an ad for Buc-ee's. He found this article familiar, and then remembered that he saw an ad for the grand opening two years ago. The ad stated that Buc-ee's had 101 different sodas ranging from a standard Mug root beer, to something more exquisite, like a Grape Nehi, which was also on his radar. Suicide heaven!

Christopher decided he should check it out, so he hopped into his small helicopter, and had his pilot fly it three miles to Buc-ee's, and then was lowered down on a Texas king sized memory foam waterbed as the helicopter hovered. He loved to make an entrance. He entered into the store and was surprised to find the walls lined with soda fountain drinks. He practically floated over to the front desk and asked for their largest drink size. The lady whose name tag said Temmie, held out to him the 128 oz drink size, and then looked at the crazed man's face. "Sir, you have to pay for that before you can use it, okay?" the lady said.

"FINE! Just give it to me!" He grabbed the drink and threw a roll of twenty dollar bills held together by a rubber band onto the counter and ran off with the massive drink. Did I mention he was rich?

Christopher Walkman neared the fountain drinks, with his eyes wide and gawked. Three whole minutes went by without him knowing what drinks to get for his suicide. He finally picked out a few drinks. All of them. He grabbed a straw as the world seemed to move in slow motion around him. He heard nothing but his heavy breathing, his own heart beat, like a drum in the background, and the soft decadent sizzle of carbon dioxide escaping from the top of the liquid syrupy heaven. He moved his quivering lips toward the straw and took a long sip. Everything got even slower until everyone was frozen in space and his heartbeat got louder and louder, deafeningly loud until he could not hear anything but the loud drumming sound. Christopher was suddenly spinning on his back, abruptly stopped and then fell towards the ground. Reality as he knew it was twisted out of shape, and he was no longer falling but shooting upwards in an impossible direction, his body being contorted violently. Then it all stopped.