A/N: I really like how pop turned out...Anyway, this is Six. Done by Two-Bit Mathews :D I have Squish and Uh-Uh already written, but I gotta save them to my computer before I finish.
I hope you're liking this as much as I like writing it. Please review. Reviews are the source of my writing power. That's why this one came out so quickly :)

Pop. Six. Squish. Uh-uh. Cicero. Lipschitz.

He had it comin', he had it comin', he only had himself to blame…if you'd have been there, if you'd have seen it, I bet that You would have done the same…

Six…

Alcohol. Can't say why, but I like it. I like it a lot. A lot of the guys around our neighborhood do, actually. I think that's one thing us greasers and the Socs have in common-most of us like to drink.

I'll go out on weekends, some weekdays, and go out somewhere, to the Dingo or something', and just drink a few beers. I'll mess around, have my fun, and be done.

But, see, there was once this smart guy who made up a term. That term is called 'expressions'. Whether they're stupid or just plain blunt, expressions are usually right and if you had a brain, you'd listen to 'em.

This one expression comes to my mind a lot when I drink. It goes something' like this:

Sometimes, you can have too much of a good thing.

That good thing can be different for everyone. For Steve, it's chocolate cake. For Ponyboy, I'd have to say it's those movies and books he digs so much. For me, that good thing is alcohol.

Everyone, and I mean everyone knows I got a limit. That limit is six. Six beers for me could be trouble. You can hear people say so, too, when they introduce me. After they say I'm funny they add, "That Two-Bit, man, six beers and he's gone."

It goes like this-one or two don't effect me much. Three to four can make me tipsy and sillier than normal, which is good if ya want a laugh. Five is when I'm drunk. I do stupid stuff. Crawl under a girl's skirt and stay there 'till she kicks me, jump on a café table and sing. Ya know, stuff like that. Six though…six and I can be bad. Six and I can be dangerous. I remember the first time I had six, just to see if I could, and I almost killed a guy. If Darry and Soda hadn't have been there, well…

So the other night, this one greaser from the next street over invites me to go mess around. Cruise the drive-ins, maybe. His name was Mikey Nagarelli and I had hung around him a few times before. Enough for him to understand plain and simple about my drinking limit.

We were having a good time. Flirted with girls (which got us a smack with some purses), hopped from car to car, even caught a clip of a movie.

I was keeping track of the amount of drinks I was having. I opened yet another and took one slug before I realized it-

Six.

Even as I was drunk, I could remember what beer I was on. I had to. For some guys, it was a matter of pride and whether or not they'd do something that would embarrass them. For me, it could be a matter of life or death.

Ironically, it ended up that way anyway.

I quickly put the drink away, back in Mikey's ice chest. That good for nothing…I didn't know what he was playing at, trying to give me more beer, 'cause believe me, anyone else would've begged me to stop. And he should know-the guy I almost killed last time was his brother. It wasn't a good idea, though. Not good at all.

I tried to sneak off without him seeing, but since he was obviously up to something, he caught me right away.

"I…gotta clean the kitchen for my ma," I said. A total lie. Mikey narrowed his eyes at me and I thought I had been caught.

But no.

He nodded at me and suggested we meet again tomorrow. And I agreed to that. By then I would have a plan.

So the next night, we met up. I never learned what he was up to that night, when he tried to give me too much alcohol. Good thing I have quick fingers or he would've noticed me slip away his beer for a few seconds.

Ya know, some guys just can't hold their arsenic.

He had it comin', he had it comin', he had it comin' all along.

I didn't do it, but if I'd done it,

How could you tell me that I was wrong?