"I'm FRESCA," she said. Befre I could give my name, she saw my look of confusion, recognized it, and alleviated it by telling this story:
"When my mother was very young, she loved to drink sodas. Despite being exposed to the plethora of soft drinks that thrive in the free market, she had a definite favourite. It was somewhat hard to find, but she would always talk Grandma into going to 4 or 5 stores until she got it. This was all well and good, until one fateful day when they took it off the market- something to do with a 'saccharine scare.' She was despondant for a while... and then slowly forgot about it. Every now and then she'd remember this heavenly beverage and sigh.
"Time passed. She got married and was pregnant with me. She went to a OneStop to get some pickles. She walked by the refrigerator section and saw her beloved grapefruit flavoured soda. She rushed to the counter, paid the cashier, popped the top, started to drink, and had to spit it out; it was too bitter. So she named me FRESCA to symbolize her lost innocence. She thought she was being deep, but she should try going through 8th grade with a name like that."
Her story over, I felt free to ask her why the mob was chasing her. She answered that it was a religious persecution. What? She worshipped a goldfish and SPANDEX was held in high regard here....
"SPANDEX?" she interrupted. "SPANDEX is a cat."
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