Battle Royale
"Manny you are so full of shit," Remy crooned as the kid finished his tale about he had landed himself in a threesome in the backseat of his Ant.
"You can't even get three people in an Ant, let alone in that pocket you call a backseat," Marlon chimed.
The critique of his tale and its validity continued. When her phone vibrated, she tugged it out and was greeted by her sneering best friend. He had been so pissed when she managed to get that picture, though it did not come without some heavy sacrifices.
[Johnny] Where are U?
[Remy] The church. Where else would I be?
[Johnny] Get in the car.
[Remy] Why?
[Johnny] Come drink with me.
[Remy] I've got cold beer right here.
[Johnny] So do I. But I have scotch too. And Rum.
[Johnny] But no one's here to drink the rum.
[Remy] Trying to tempt my inner pirate?
[Johnny] Fuck yeah.
[Johnny] Get your ass out here.
[Johnny] We can get drunk and battle coyotes.
[Remy] Where the hell are you?
[Johnny] Mount Claflin. Come on.
[Remy] Tell me you didn't take Dex parking.
[Remy] I'm not getting in the middle of that threesome.
The response did not come immediately, and it came from another number.
[Dex] Come on Rem someone's got to be the meat.
[Dex] It will be like one of those marble rye sandwiches.
Remy accidentally spit a mouthful of beer all over Marlon, who shot her a glare. "Sorry man," she choked out between laughs. Her phone tucked back in her pocket she pulled out forty bucks and stuffed it in his pocket and patted his chest. "Buy yourself something nice on me."
"Where are you off too?"
"To battle coyotes."
"The fuck?" he muttered as the lithe blonde strutted out of the nave.