Originally Posted by ItsDeckard
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Thanks for the warm welcome back. This week was rough but it was good to be back! My name is Deckard and I'm the player who plays Supporting, Serenading, Scrying and sometimes Screeching, all from Awakened which I think is a pretty great guild. I came here today to share more about my personal life and some of the things I'm enthusiastic about, one of those things is Fresca and I'd like to talk to you about it.
In 1966, the Coca-Cola corporation created Fresca, a lemon lime sparkling beverage for the world to enjoy. Even if you're not from the United States, you can enjoy Fresca all over the world under different brand names, but it's still that classic Fresca! Growing up in a place called Lake Martin in the south, I remember days where I would get in my great aunt's pedal paddle boat and paddle up to a lake side convenience store, a ride that takes about 30 minutes, and purchase a single chilled can of Fresca to enjoy on the way back.
My whole life, I've wondered why she is following me, what link we must've shared that I wasn't able to detect somehow. She keeps to herself most of the time, walking on tree lines or just outside my window. We had an argument not too long ago and she's been a little more shy about when she wants to see each other. She likes to come in when I'm asleep and watch me sleep, it's a little unnerving sometimes honestly but you know, once I left my girlfriend, mother seems to be happy. Sometimes it's hard to tell with that face of hers. Once you get over the blood between the parts of skin, it's really not that bad. I've seen her without that mask of skin, a few times actually. I grew up on a ranch and I saw a lot of cow skulls and horns, it was in fashion to hang them on the wall, if I had to describe her face under that sewn together skin, it's like that. A white cow skull that looks too big for her shoulders. On an adventure a few years ago, we visited a hostile place that I won't go into detail about, I'll just sum it up for you as briefly as possible. It's a world we weren't supposed to be in with a group of what we'll settle on calling extremists who fashioned a spiritual belief system based on worshiping a solid metal head that they kept in this little glass chamber where they kept it red hot using some kind of heating element. We were there to find something she said she wanted, well she made clear to me she wanted. Mother never talks, not like you or I might, it's not even like telepathy or whatever. It's difficult to explain but to be clear, she makes it absolutely clear what she wants without words of any kind, it's like if a person wanted a hug, you'd just think of how it feels to hug them. Anyway, so we're sitting there behind this tipped over vending machine and bullets are eating into it and I was waiting for her to give me the signal. She looked over to me and nodded a little, it took me almost thirty years so far to teach her to nod. So I get up, take a firm stance and just start shooting like a crazy person. I'm pretty confident at this point because mother is really good at this sort of thing, but then it happened. -- I woke up under her and she's looking down at me with those big black eyes of her and I can taste her on my lips. It's somewhere between vinegar and motor oil, heavy and acrid. She reaches down and wraps her ratty, frankly disgusting rotten fingers around the chin of the mask. She slowly pulls it up like motorcycle helmet visor and under it, there she is, my highschool sweetheart. The first girl I'd ever had sex with, right there under mother's face. I know then, beyond a shadow of a doubt, she killed Mia. I remember the first summer I saw this thing she did, we'd have kids come over that were my age and she'd pour them a glass of black milk, they'd drink it and go into the basement and I'd see that kid on a milk carton a week later. She tried to give me the milk too sometimes, I'd just politely decline. It's rare she use a whole face like this, nostalgia bit me hard and for some reason I wanted to kiss her. Mother asked how I was feeling and I just shrugged a little, but why am I on the floor all of a sudden? Mother's head turns a quarter turn to the side like a curious dog and I hear the sound of water by a stone beach, a sound like sarcastic clapping as she took the stuff she kept in one of her bags and began to play with it between her hands like warming up a piece of clay. She leaned down and, I forgot to mention, this is basically her way of telling me what happened, not necessarily what happened. So she starts spreading this stuff all over my face but at this point I'm actually kind of freaked out because .. well, I didn't have a face. I got shot in the face and mother was working that material into the hole whatever bullet left in my face. I imagine I looked pretty worried at this point but mother's eyes were focused on me like she was staring at something behind me. Once I leaned up and sat with my back against the soda machine, I caught a glimpse of the thing she'd made with the leftover flesh, she'd made a sort of box out of the people worshiping the skull in the center of the room. It moved subtly, not around but the walls of it would go in and out like it was trying to figure out what muscles moved what part of it's new form. I suggested maybe we should just kill it but mother seemed not to hear me. "Did she suffer very much?" I remember asking, thinking about Mia. I think mother could sense how sad this all made me so I guess in her limited understanding of what humans like, decided to show me the thing I was thinking about. Mia's legs, wow, the single nicest set of legs I'd ever seen. Just slightly brown and gold. South east Asian women have that color and it just burns me up inside, it's what I'd call 'ideal' in women. When mother sat down beside me, she batted the old torn up set of rags she wore down to her ankles and there they were, those beautiful brown legs. It made me sad to think that everyone I would ever love in my life, mother would give them that black milk and I'd never see them again until mother decided to walk them in front of me again. I had a stupid look on my face that almost hid the grimace the idea of mother taking Mia apart with those rotten fingers like broken toy spread across my new face. I took a deep breath and in my heart of hearts, I thought how empty I felt finally knowing I'd never see the real Mia ever again. Mother extended her hand to me and wrapped in those dirty fingers of hers, a 1966 original bottle of Fresca with the original logo and everything. When I looked up to her face, Mia's face, she nodded but I couldn't figure out to what, that's the problem with mother's nod. It seems random sometimes. Maybe that's why I'd gotten shot in the face and brought back instantaneously by an extra-dimensional force who spend most of her free time body snatching anyone I had any kind of affection for. I guess it's her way of trying to make me happy. 1966 Fresca is so much better than anything you can even begin to imagine, I was so blown away it's clarity of taste. Walking back to the thin spot, I'd almost forgotten. "Did you get your thing?" I recalled asking while trying to stifle how impressed I was by the taste of this drink. Mother leaned down to one of the dead bodies, one she hadn't included in the cube in the main room, and struggled to remove the shoelace of one of the monks. Once she had it though, she wrapped around the neck of the Fresca bottle and seemed content. I still have that Fresca bottle and the shoestring. Sometimes I sniff it and hope to catch a whiff of that 1966 Fresca, but it's long gone. She still shows me those legs sometimes and even worse than that, she knows I like them on her.
Lyndon B. Johnson liked Fresca so much that he had a fountain tap put into the oval office so he could enjoy it as much as he wanted. There's even a version in South America called Quatro that is sweetened like normal colas that Coca-Cola manufactures.
So that's some Fresca facts for you! Thanks everyone for the warm welcome back again and I hope next time you see a Fresca, that you'll enjoy the simple, clean citrus flavor in sparkling water that it provides and that you remember that getting involved romantically or otherwise with an entity that will disappear your closest acquaintances in order to impress you after she rebuilds your face with god knows what because you're invading an otherwise peaceful monastic order for a shoestring and got shot in the face doing so sounds probably a lot cooler than it actually is.
I'll lurk here for a bit if anyone has any questions about Fresca.
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04-09-2018, 01:32 AM
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