'I could go another round.' Your comfort zone's
coordinates have recently been edited but you want to stay in it. 'But another
round of what, exactly?'
Frank: 'Drinks, of course.'
Chris shrugs pithy before popping inside for a six-pack
of beer and another empty pizza box.
James takes the driver and explains: 'We're not sure if
it's the golf club or the pizza box that's magic. About time we scienced that
shit.'
The pizza box is stood mouth-to-ground and set alight
from within.
James swings melodramatic and slow: 'Mushoooono.'
Crack. You are back on the beach. Al waves his goodbyes
and leaves, jeered on with congratulations for the new marriage.
Pete mentions: 'Megan seems nice.'
'Ah.' James fobs the driver to Chris and runs after Al.
'Right.'
You stand the burning pizza box again, like you have seen
Chris doing. He nods appreciatively and accompanies his swing with a low
snarling 'dumb motherfucker'. Flung embers follow you to a grassy hilltop. You
pivot to a vantage overlooking the city and booze emphasises the latticework of
streetlights. Pete takes the driver and swings with a:
'Home, please.'
The box smashes with the last of the flames. You are not
outside the suburban home. The stars are bright above you.
Frank: 'Ah fuck.'
'Nuriootpa.' Chris sighs. 'Again.'
Pete: 'Only one thing for it.'
The four of you link arms and stroll down a dirt road.
Frank: 'Yayaya coco jambo yayayai.'
Pete:
'Yayaya coco jambo yayayai.'
Chris:
'Put me up, put me down.'
Frank: 'Put my feet back on the ground.'
'Put
me up, take my heart and make me happy.'
'Put
me up, put me down.'
'Put my feet back on the ground.'
'Put
me up, feel my heart and make me happy.'
'Here
we go, gettin' smooth to the groove'
'Watching lovely ladies as I smooth as I move.'
'Cause
that's what they say but I can't prove'
'So
turn it up again and watch me move to the groove.'
You garnish with:
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