I'm having the craziest constant summer long party.
Drugs, friends, bitches, road trips, cash, freedom.
Suddenly its 5 in the morning and im drunk as hell from alot of whiskey. In my possession i have 1 stolen doors cd, a stolen cell phone charger, and some crazy plastic terrorist blade (also stolen). I'm not quite sure why I had those things, but at some point in the night i needlessly aquired them.
In my hands I hold a gas can.
Breathing heavily drunk, the reak of whiskey and gasoline wofts about a car crammed with 5 people. Trying not to think of what will come, and how my body stings everywhere from the stinging bushes i ended up in at some point hiding on the side of the road.
Me and a whole bunch of totally fucked people I don't even know are on a mission.
Destroy the evidence.
Oh no... the cops are at the scene already... fuck man, fuck it, lets get the fuck outta here.
The one guy that stole all the things i had in my pockets, and was pretty much the main man in the plan worries. His prints and blood are all over my stearing wheel. Unfortunatly the shirt he took off his back didn't catch fire enough to ignight my gas tank.
I awake to a phone call and I'm thirsty as hell. It's my mom, who I havent talked to since i got kicked out of my house a month ago. Apparently I called her last night, I wish I didn't. She picked me up an hour ago and now im home.
Now I have to make up a fucked solid story and quick, and make a call which I fear more then anything right now. The summer is over, and so is my non stop awsome party of a life.
I'm baaaaaaaaaaaaack... for a little while anyway.