Soda shops weren't really all the rage back in New Jersey. Zachary had heard they were very popular in the west, particularly in Mormon country Utah because people didn't drink alcohol all that much, so instead they turned to a different vice: sugar.
As a business owner that makes a living on selling sugar, Zachary could offer nothing but his immense respect. Part of the visit had been professional interest. He'd been thinking of expanding his own offerings to a small soda selection and he wanted to check the competition, or perhaps see if a partnership could be reached. The other part, however, was simply here for pleasure. Nothing would satisfy his inner child more than a big gulp of some crazy soda concoction made through the power of his imagination.
A cup purchased, Zachary whistled his way to the mixing station, ready to experiment. The brightly colored buttons were lit up to entice customers and Zachary was initially at a loss on where to begin. Regular cola sounded like the place to start and afterward it would be a fun mix in flavors from there. He pressed what he thought was right button but a slip of the finger had not one but three separate buttons flash as a flood of soda and syrup splurted out the nozzle.
"Oh crap!" Zachary yelped and held a hand out. His eyes flashed dazzling white as his power kicked in enough to divert half the spray away. He still ended up with a healthy amount on his own shirt that dripped down his front.
The true tragedy was that the poor soul next to him who got the brunt of the second half of soda being shot at their side.