I mixed Coke and Pepsi. That’s it. That’s my confession. I mixed two beverages together, that’s all. I took some Coke and I took some Pepsi, and I put them together. I don’t see what the big deal is. I was at a big ass gas station on a road trip to the beach. Y’know one of those gas stations with 100 bathrooms and 50 gas pumps and a little restaurant inside. The kind with a hunting store bolted on and merchandize of their stupid little mascot.

I was thirsty. I just mixed em’. They were right next to each other at the fountain. I thought it would be worth a laugh to get a big cup and dispense both at the same time. Like, hey, look, it’s two big brands that market against each other but in the same cup. Some unity joke or first world anarchy type stuff. I didn’t get what the big deal was.

Well, apparently, it’s a big deal to someone out there because I’ve been locked in this room for the past 72 hours, with nothing to drink but some unfiltered tap water, the best this was good for is some sloppy steaks, but beyond that it was undrinkable. When I posted the picture of my drink to social media I was cuffed and bagged before I even got to my car.

So far in this room there hasn’t been a single police officer to interrogate me. It’s just been a guy in a red suit and a guy in a blue suit, neither of which have ever been in the room at the same time. The guy in the red suit keeps telling me that I’ve violated my noncompete clause my mother signed when I was born. The other guy keeps coming in with tiny paper cups full of cola, asking me if I can taste the difference. I’m confused and scared, but most of all angry. All I did was mix some cola.

“All I did was mix some cola,” I shouted.

“No sir, you did more than mix Coca-Cola brand cola with undrinkable swill, you besmirched the good name of Coke fans everywhere, you won’t be on Santa’s list this year, I’ll tell you what. You might be polar bear food soon.” said the man in the red suit, looking up and down his computer tablet as if anything he said was according to some official corporate form. As if this was something that happened every day and not some crazed overblown privatized imprisonment for something that meant absolutely nothing.

“Did you just fucking threaten to feed me to an endangered species?” I shouted, getting just enough spittle out of my mouth to land on his well pressed shirt and jacket. “This is a fucking violation of my constitutional rights.”

“You know,” he said as he wiped away the wet from his lapel, “The fourth amendment these days is more akin to the Pirates of the Caribbean movies.” I looked at him confused. He continued, “Y’know, Guidelines.”

“I want my lawyer!” I screamed, struggling against the cuffs attached to the metal table. “This is some real bullshit here! What the fuck did I even do.”

The man walked to the door and turned around before he opened it. “What did you do? Son, you did the worst thing of all. You disrespected brand loyalty.” He walked out, the door slammed shut, and I was there, again, alone in the dark.

“I should have bought a fucking RC Cola you fucking pigs!” I slammed my fists against the table. At the same moment I mentioned RC Cola, a dark red light with no discernible point of origin lit up. This was not good. I don’t think I was going to be making it to the beach this weekend. I think I probably missed the fishing tournament and the beach football. I probably missed out on meeting a cute girl at a dumb bar with a stupid name that probably had a thing for chastity belts and calling me Zaddy and making me uncomfortable. I probably missed out on the beach fire and guitar circles and the skinny dipping at midnight.

The red flashing light stopped. The door opened. Fog flooded in from the nondiscrete halfway outside the door. There stood in front of me a man. A man without features. A man in blue. A man with a silver face. A man with a choir that sang his name. A man of Pepsi. A Pepsi Man.

He cracked his knuckles.

This was really not good.