DDR
“Punch,” she said. The red vortex kept rotating for a moment, carrying the spoon along with it. I watched as the cone of air retreated from the depths of the pitcher and broke down, leaving the koolaid wobbling gently. The spoon came to a rest.
“Beg your pardon?” I said.
“Why do they call it punch?” she asked.
“I don’t know. We could look it up?”
“No, that’s fine,” she said. She took the spoon out of the pitcher and placed it on the counter. A small puddle of koolaid pooled beneath it.
“So you don’t want to know?” I said. “It would be easy to figure it out.”
She was getting ice out of the freezer and filling a glass with it. She handed it to me.
“That isn’t interesting,” she said. She poured some of the koolaid into the glass. “If you knew the answer already, you might have a story about how you learned it, something with personality. If we look it up, there’s no magic. Just us and some sad wikipedia link.”
I thought for a moment, then grabbed the pitcher of koolaid and dumped it in the sink. The drain gurgled as it flowed into the pipes.
“What the hell?” she said. “What did you do that for?”
I handed her the glass she had poured for me.
“I wanted you to have a story.”
She glared at me.
“Anyway we should go, DDR starts soon. You can look it up on the way.”
At the Insanity Complex
100 Skate Park Drive
Madison, AL