Aardvark Posted December 10, 2003 Report Posted December 10, 2003 (edited) *I spy, with my little eye, something be-" "Roadkill" This game had been going on for a while now. The world at large was unaware of it, all noise of the game being drowned out by the loud engine of the truck as it rolled through the quiet suburban streets. The two players were Scott, the dim one: "How did you guess that, you cheated, didn't you?" And Paul. The not so dim, but still quite bloody stupid, sometimes: "Yeah, I cracked open your skull and read your brain... you know I can't read" They were both drunk. They were both very, very drunk. "I spy with my little eye, something beginning with Bee." Paul was driving. It made no sense, as neither could drive straight in their state." "Beer" Still, for a man who would set off every breathalyser within a hundred miles if he sneezed, he was steering the beast of a machine with ease. He knew what he was doing and where he was going. Which made one of them. "Yeah, I could go for a cold one right now. Any left in the esky?" Scott fished around in the icebox, producing a pair of beer cans. The two simultaneously crack the beers open on their teeth, before each downing half a can. This was when Paul decided to slam on the brakes, causing mass spillage. "There's one right there, it's perfect, GO GO GO GO GO!!!!!!" He shouted excitedly. Scott, who hadn't even recovered from the beer in the face was already out, carrying with him the angle grinder he stole from his last job. Half a minute of loud noise and sparks later, the two had themselves a decorative mailbox which someone paid good money for. Into the back it went, then the two continued on. "The bitch left me, again." "I keep telling you, dude. Forget about her. Hell, if I can pick up, you can. Stop acting like such a goddamn woman." "Hey, screw you, this time it wasn't my fault. She walks in on Jerry and Allison going at it hammer and tongs on my bed, thinks it's me and another guy and won't listen to reason" Paul stopped to scratch his spine before replying. "I told you, they're not worth the heartbreak- THERE!!! PERFECT!!! GET IT!!!" In a flash, Scott was out of the truck, angle grinder in hand. This time, the victim was a parking meter. In moments, the meter, the grinder and the drunkard are back in the truck, heading out of there. "Like I said, chicks aren't worth it. Unless you find the one in a billion whom I already snagged. "I guess, but I loved her, man." "That's what you said last time my dealer dropped by, last time I checked the mail and last.... wait, what was I talking about?" "I've got no idea, man... WATCH OUT FOR THAT SQUIRREL!!!!" CRUNCH!! The ute came to a screeching halt and Paul jumped out to have a quick look around his car. He stopped by the front left wheel, tested it, then got back in. "Don't worry mate, it was a cat, not a squirrel. We don't get squirrels down here, you silly drunk bastard. And my tyre's fine, thankyou very much. Just forked out a grand for the set and all of a sudden, every feral animal in five hundred miles comes running at 'em" The wavery drunken journey continued down the suburban streets, until Scott screamed "HALFBRICK" Paul slammed on the brakes and jumped out to grab the broken brick.Now they were armed. "What should we do with it?" "I dunno. Maybe if... FORD!!! SPEED UP!!! SPEED UP!!!." Paul floored it toward the offending vehicle while Scott hung out the window, halfbrick armed and ready. As they passed, Scott simply tossed the brick out and let the momentum from the truck send it flying straight through the back window of the thirty thousand dollar automobile. The next several streets the ute took were erratic and at higher speed than normal, as Paul tried to lose the non-existent police who were sitting around the ford, just waiting for someone to halfbrick that car. A bystander would've heard a lot of giggling as the ute sped past them. "Hehehe, we got him good..." "What else should we get?" "That stop sign" No sooner had the words been voiced, Scott was out with the angle grinder, cutting down the sign. Scott, a drunken master at public property theft, had id in the back of the truck in moments. "Hmm.... this blade doesn't look too good for wear... I think they're making poles out of stronger stuff. Like titanium. Or adamantium. Or something." "You retard, there's no such thing as adamantium." "There so is, I saw it in that movie." "Of course you saw it in a movie, retard, it's a fictional metal." "Ohhh... well, maybe not adamantium, maybe kevlar or something." "Kevlar's only strong against impacts, it cuts just like any other plastic." "You know too much for a drunken man. I believe you need more beer." "I'll drink to that, pass me a tinnie." Scott opened the esky. To his horror, the only thing staring back was melted ice and a can of coke. "OH HELL, WE'RE OUT OF BEER!!" "You're joking, we drank it all that quickly?" "Not really quickly, it is four in the morning." "Ahh, bugger aye, I've gotta work tomorrow." "I thought you quit your job?" "As far as the tax office is concerned, I did. Don't you say a bloody word to anyone about it, ya hear?" "Hey, my lips are sealed." The journey home went in relative silence. Except for that quick stop to try and steal the traffic lights, which ended in disaster. Well, disaster for Scott, who had to replace the disc. "Ahh, home, sweet home. Château De Scotty. You're welcome to stay the rest of the night, dude." "Nah, I've got an early start. Infact, I think I'll just head to work now." "What is it you do again?" "Courier." Scott was laughing all the way inside his house, random stolen items in arm. Paul was chuckling for a while. Ahh, how could he top that one. Turning onto the main road, he was still laughing at himself. Laughing, right until he saw the blue lights flash in his rearview. "Awww, crap..." The cop had his breathalyzer in hand as he approached the ute. Edited December 10, 2003 by Aardvark
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