When Gatorade Meets Swedish Fish #LastSummer2020 [COMPLETED]

𝗪𝗵𝗲𝗻 𝗚𝗮𝘁𝗼𝗿𝗮𝗱𝗲 𝗠𝗲𝗲𝘁𝘀 𝗦𝘄𝗲𝗱𝗶𝘀𝗵 𝗙𝗶𝘀𝗵

AISA NEVER believed me when I told her she talks in her sleep.

"Sure I do. Now grab a bucket and give me a hand or two will you?" I imagined her all kneeled up in her favorite maroon tee as she remarked, pretending to build that overrated sandcastle with a drawbridge. She's eighteen, but I hand her the empty bucket of popcorn chicken anyway.

Perhaps because it's the only thing I've ever told her when we went to Dan's Diner after homecoming, wishing we were at Santa Monica.

I never told her the entire story of how my gruesome friend of four years takes the form of a seventy-six year old man with an existential crisis when she's asleep. Or how sometimes she won't stop talking to the stars.

I don't effing know. Maybe it's an Asian thing. All I can say is she's definitely a two-brain under those sheets.

"Over here. Look, a starfish!"

"Ow!" I flinched as an imaginary piece of the hard and spiny starfish bounces over the top of my head.

"Really, Aisa?" I gestured, holding up the metal fork she threw my way.

Ah, Dan's Diner, the only fast food place in California that still used silverware instead of plastic cutlery. Dan's Diner was a classic and anyone who'd been there knew it was the perfect hangout spot for any lousy teenager my age. It was dimly lit, had a striking red retro look, and was doused in tons of lavish merchandise from the 90's. Best of all, Dan's strawberries and cream milkshake was to die for.

"Why has it never occurred to me that you are both a murderer and an immature psycho?"

"Sorry. Did you want something better over your head?" She bit into one of Dan's famous and overly greasy burgers when she burst into laughter, drizzling the ketchup all over my brand new suit and tie.

Oh, it was so on.

"That's it, I'm not having it!" I jumped up the slippery metal seat and began to strangle her, splattering the remaining ketchup on her bright pink ballgown.

She choked momentarily, hitting my face with a bucket and trying her best to kick me back onto my seat. Sadly, she managed to do just that using her stilettos that I completely paid no mind to. The blow on my stomach felt like that of an awfully strong baby horse. At once, my legs lost their balance, forcing my entire body to roll down and hit the dirty checkered flooring.

After being knocked out by a pair of high heeled shoes, I put my hands forward slowly and crawled back to my spot thinking she was done getting back at me. But boy was I wrong. She started to grab the remaining packs of ketchup, throwing them at me in every way possible, and I was certain that I broke a few nails trying to stop her.

It was an understatement, but me and Aisa were a recipe for disaster.

Luckily, nobody else was at the diner when we trashed it. After a few minutes of wrestling one another, we decided to call off the fight. Time had always been our white flag. We began counting to three and I nicely let go of her leg while she, calmly let go of my hair. We were beyond exhausted. Aisa closed her eyes for a brief moment and rested her head back, laying her arms on the table.