American Dr Pepper tastes sweeter

Jonson ambled out into the mild spring New York night. He went to the store. He procured a bottle of Dr Pepper. 12 fl. oz. He walked back to the hostel sipping his beverage. He did not guzzle. He sipped. He was in possession of some restraint. Outside the hostel a garbage truck was gargling and two dudes were collecting up bags of waste.

Inside the hostel Jonson went to the restroom and pissed. He checked the mirror to make certain his hair wasn't utterly ridiculous. Satisfied that it wasn't he returned to his bed and retrieved a pen and notepad from his luggage. He immediately set to work on a short story entitled Munchausen Syndrome by Proxy. He did not know what to write about. He was distracted by the smell of his own feet. He hadn't laundered anything in over a week, reduced to reusing the same sweaty old socks. His feet were blistered from walking all over Chelsea and Soho, visiting galleries.
He sipped the sweet syrupy beverage. There was no escaping the fact: American Dr Pepper tasted sweeter. It was the same with a lot of things in America.

Walking along the street today an enthused midget had asked if he liked stand-up comedy.
"It's okay," he offered.
"Okay?! Fucking recession fucking sucks man you need something to laugh about!" the midget had shrieked. Jonson had burst into tears.

Man the odour of his unwashed socks was troubling. A laundromat mission would definitely be required tomorrow. Jonson was interrupted by his friend Valdez entering the room.
"Hey man, what you doing?"
"Writing," Jonson explained.
"What you writing?"
"A story about a guy who goes to the store and buys some Dr Pepper," Jonson explained.
Valdez eyed the half-empty soda bottle standing on the floor by the bed.
"Oh, so that's where you went. I came in and thought where the hell's he gone?"
"Yeah I was out getting inspired," Jonson explained.
"So you came home, sat down and started writing a story about a man who goes out, buys some Dr Pepper, then comes home and writes a story about it?"
"Yeah," Jonson affirmed.
"And then his friend comes in and asks him what he's writing about?"
"Yeah," Jonson affirmed. "I'm just gonna write that part in now."

Jonson wrote that part in. Then he paused. What should he write about now? He had been sort of working on a story about two Scottish guys who move to Brooklyn. The characters were actually based on him and his friend. Actually maybe this story was part of the same story. Maybe he could later amalgamate the two stories using a computer. Or then again maybe this would stand alone as a separate piece.