Babe, there's something wretched about this

Well, ask them. Hell, I bet those brats would jump at the chance to impress their little friends.

Hey! Who you callin’ little?

C’mon. Don’t you know the Sullivans? I bet those kids would host a rager.

Of course I know them, dude. If they wanna throw down, I’m game. Of course, if they throw a rager, there’ll probably already be alcohol already available to get fucked up on, and probably other shit too.

It’s on. Bring a few kegs and I can get this guy I know to DJ. All we need is a place…

We can’t use my place. It’s too small. Just tell me where to show up and I’ll be there.

And do you know what makes it especially shitty?

This is my first summer not stuck with my parents.

Then shit, man, throw a party! I’ll bring the booze.

Dylan wasn’t a bad guy, or at least he didn’t think so. He was a pretty good guy who did some semi-bad things once in a while.

He never did anything too bad, after all. Anything that he did was stuff that had been done to or for him when he was a kid, and it hadn’t fucked him up too severely.

He could think of one instance, of course, where he’d been hanging around outside a gas station, passing time while on break from work, and these teenagers had come wandering up. Maybe he should have thought about the repercussions when they asked if he’d buy them some beer.

He hadn’t even hesitated.

His only caveat was that he got to share in the wealth. Those kids had thought him cooler than anyone they’d ever met because he didn’t even buy beer. He bought them straight up tequila. “If you wanna party, you gotta drink like you’re at a party. Don’t be such a fuckin’ weenie about it,” he had said.

Sometime after work he had ended up at the party. It was extremely lame (as parties involving teens could be), but he got sloshed anyway and had a great time. He got sent out to buy alcohol three more times that night. 

He didn’t know what happened to those kids after that. Maybe they just went about their business. In fact, they probably did.

...but sometimes he wondered if any of them had ended up like him. He wondered if he had been the catalyst that had made them reliant on liquor to get through the day.

“It’s officer. Not ‘lady’ or whatever. Why were you outside of Hardy’s Market half an hour ago?”

“I wasn’t at Hardy’s Market a half hour ago, I was at the club working. I just told you I was walking home.”

“Uh huh. That’s what they all say. I’m going to need you to stop for a second.”

“Uhhh... okay? What exactly do you want from me, lady?”

“Who do you think? Little Miss Goody-Two-Shoes herself.”

Dude... are you talking about Jamie? What’d she do?

“Someone I figured I could trust is a lying bitch.”

Man, you really are in a shitty mood. Who was it?

“Girls being bitches. What else?”

Since when do girls pay attention to you?

“How’s gin? ‘Sall I got.”

Sounds good t’me. What’s got you in the mood to drink though?

Oh my gosh, really? Wait, is it that guy you told me about awhile back? You weren’t sure if he was like, into you, into you. 

Uh, yeah, it was him. I asked him out on a date, and he actually said yeah. I couldn’t believe it.