Chapter 3: Drunken Conclusions

"Okay. Zoom out. My life. Act 21, scene 8. Right after my birthday party. You were too drunk to notice anything at that point. The monsters of Satan could have come to burn the hell out of us and you would've thought it was funny..."

Roger barked out laughter at some stupid, drunken remark Mark had made. It was getting close to 10 but both boys were too far gone to notice or care for that matter. Turning his head, Mark regarded Roger through his drunken haze. What had kept him beside his best friend for
so long? Why did he put up with Roger's abuse and mood swings? What made Roger so different?

Maybe it was the fact that they shared something so intimate, so deadly. Something Mark could relate to above everyone else.

Mark shook his head. He was too drunk to be having these sober thoughts. He chugged what beer was left in his cup. He wanted to forget about things just for one night. He wanted one night to be where he was totally normal, where he was just another person out to get drunk on their 21st birthday. He let out a sigh before removing himself from his seat. He needed another beer. His goal tonight was to get totally trashed. He didn't want to remember the night tomorrow morning. Let it be a complete mystery, he didn't care. He wanted to question what happened the day he turned 21.

He wanted to be normal even if it was only for one night.

"Hey Mark, where ya heading?" Roger slurred out after he realized his best friend was not sitting beside him anymore. Mark was but two steps from the couch where the songwriter was located.

Mark tipped his glass and mumbled, "Need more beer."

Roger let out another laugh, though the moment didn't really call for one. The younger man smiled for a moment at the simplicity that being drunk brought to a person. Everything seemed so much easier. He walked into the kitchen and promptly filled his cup to the brim with the intoxicating liquid.

As he sat down Roger raised his glass to Mark and let out, "To birthdays."

Mark responded, "To good days."

"To friends."

"To simplicity."

"To forgetting."

"To normalcy."

The two men then commented together, "To life."

They both started chugging the beer in their cups. Roger let out a loud burp after he had finished his. Mark looked down and realized his cup was now half empty.

Was it half empty or half full?

He'd never really thought about that question too much. Lately it seemed he always called a cup 'half empty'. Did that truly mean he was pessimistic? But with a life like his, who wouldn't be pessimistic. Mark had his secrets. Mark had skeletons in his closet. Mark was a master at hiding by this point. Mark gave his cup one last look and then decided that his cup did not need to be analyzed. At least not while he was drunk.

Roger looked from Mark's cup to Mark's face. And then he did it again. And again. And again. And again. Until not only was he thoroughly confused but very dizzy. Roger paused a second before asking, "Are you going to ask that cup to marry you or are you going to drink its contents like a normal person." It may have taken a few minutes to come out but it was the least drunk statement he had made all night.

Mark gave a small laugh and took a gulp of his drink. He then turned to look at Roger, "That better?"

The songwriter nodded his head and then shrugged shoulders. "At least I know you're semi-normal."

Roger paused.

"You alien."

Mark tilted his head back and laughed. This is what a normal drunken night should consist of: two highly drunk men, more beer, and random statements that in retro vision were really stupid. He just wanted this one night.

The filmmaker nearly jumped out of his seat when his beeper went off. "Shit," he muttered, trying to hide it from the man sitting next to him.

He swiftly moved from his seat and walked into his bedroom, closing the door behind him. No one could ever know. Mark walked over to his camera bag and dug its key from his pocket. Unlocking it, he removed a pill bottle from a secret compartment.

"AZT break," Mark mumbled as he opened the bottle, grabbed one of the small pills and swallowed it dry.

All he wanted was one night.

((A/N: I have a question to ask. Does everyone get the Act 21, Scene 8 part? Please, tell me. I'll let it mingle for a couple chapters and if at that point, no one understands, I will tell the general idea of it.

That and, let me remind you that I do tend to reuse good ideas. So watch out for them in this chapter and the rest of the story. Kudos to people who can find them either in mine and MookieRiffic's published stories or in stories to come!))