Fat and plump, Coca-Pepsi sits divine in the land of sugary beverages. Every once in a while the deity (spelled similar to diet, but not quite) comes down from the mountain (of, you guessed it, sugar) to take a diabetic shart upon the people of the land. Beware his mighty vengeance, though, for his power is wide and all-consuming, much like Jeff, the thirty-year-old trucker who frequents the local all-you-can-eat Chinese buffet. Jeff is a rather large man, but more importantly, Jeff does not worship Coca-Pepsi, or at least not openly, which angers the divine Coca-Pepsi, and so Coca-Pepsi strikes Jeff down on his next cross-country run with a bout of sleepiness and drifting wheel, and the next day his deeds are honoured by the bards of the evening news, and the burning truck, his pyre of heroes. Jeff’s last wish may have been only to once more eat seven rounds of General Tao’s chicken, and to lick his fingers clean, but we will never know for sure. Only Coca-Pepsi will.