All characters are over eighteen, and all of these characters are fictional and if they seem real, then it's just a coincidence.
*****
*Francis*
You enter the shady bar right off the I-89 for a good time and easy, hassle free booze. The owner/bartender/creep had a pretty liberal view concerning a teenager's right to choose their own drinking age and when they were mature enough to do so. You just got out of prison (lifting rims this time) and drinking to celebrate when your parole officer is within a ten mile radius is a really shitty idea, but hey ... You're twenty and what twenty year old gives a fuck about anything, right?
Two goals for the night: 1) Get hammered and 2) Get laid. They were pretty easy goals for sure, but while the alcohol was running a plenty, the babes at the Lippy Lagoon (tacky, I know) were mostly college freshmen, being shopped out with their senior "boyfriends" who were probably just too lame to date someone their own age.
Look, you're not saying you wouldn't get with someone younger than you, you're just merely stating the fact that any freshman that would willingly go out with a senior to a shady bar, was probably a) unattractive, b) has really low self esteem or c) both.
And you're not giving those creeps a free pass either. They're effing disgusting pieces of human garbage, and you should know. Your one flaming turd yourself.
Nonetheless, you get hammered and before you know it, the room is turning purple and the world is spinning and the fat girl sitting at the bar (who's definitely on the edge of twenty-five) is looking a little more attractive and you decide to take your chances and fuck her for patriotism's sake.
You pop a Camel, pray to God for a short respite and he responds by sending her to the broom closet with gangly junior with acne and a fuck ton of dandruff. Yuck.
Goal number two was unrealized. You sigh. Anybody would've done, you just didn't want to be a pervert. Now the bar was deserted and your left to going home by yourself. Shit.
Your car's parked in the parking lot bordering a crap ton of woods, and in those woods were the sounds of good ole American drama. And what red blooded American would not wanna help. Right? You smile to yourself.
You hear yelling, and right in the middle of a dirt patch, stood two teenagers. One was a blonde girl, and the other was a senior that definetly looked like he belonged to Sigma Delta Phi.
"Kevin, I don't wanna! I'm a virgin and momma's gonna be mad at me for drinkin' tonight and I just wanna-" *Smack* Now, you've dealt with cock teases before and they get on your nerves, don't get yourself wrong, but still. Have some class.
"Look Connie. I just blew my entire paycheck to get you nice and happy tonight and you just wanna bail?!" You shift behind a tree and you watch the lover's spat. The guy looked just like a right and proper dick with Ken doll hair, sealed in with car wax and one fake ass tan appearing orange. He was leaning against a Chevy Bel-Air too, presumably his. Rich motherfucker.
She wasn't all innocent either, looking like a roadside hooker, no more than eighteen years old for sure. She was really fucking hot though. Like you'd do her and any reservations you'd had about being a goddamn pedophile were goddamn gone. It was probably the six whiskey sours and the four shots of good ole moonshine talking, but hot damn.
She had a halter top on, with a cut out in the middle showing off her ridiculous bust. She tried to feign modesty by putting on a rather large leather jacket that'd just made her seem smaller and she had on the tightest miniskirt you'd ever seen on a girl. She was short, for sure 5'2" probably, but she was stacked, and had the nicest legs you'd ever seen on a girl. She bleached her hair, for sure, the almost white strands standing out against the leather jacket and the black sky and wore a crap ton of red lipstick and eyeliner. She was smokin hot.
And so, your obligated to say that you sympathize with the douchebag she was with. The little tramp wasn't even wearing a bra. Heck, her gravity defying tits and small little nipples were poking through her top like they were just busting for air.
Back to the fight at hand. "Look, Connie, just a little bit. Just kiss my peter for like ten minutes huh?"
"Look Kevin, I like you a lot, but-" The little fucker didn't let her finish. He grabbed her fat tit and slammed her on the hood of his car. He flipped her skirt over and started smacking her beautiful heart-shaped ass like there's was no tomorrow.
Look, you know you'd said that you had some semblance of sympathy for the piece of crap, but there was sympathy and then there is you being witness to a crime without doing anything and you getting years added on for a parole violation. Plus, the girl was being fucking brutalized and your not allowed to be a reformed citizen and stand by and watch.
You run up to the son of a bitch and grabbed him by the collar of his starched shirt and screamed in his ear a series of profanities that even in this publication you cannot scream. You topped the guy by a good nine inches and a hundred pounds, and the little wimp turned as white as a ghost. He began apologizing profusely all the while retracting like the little bitch that he was and going into his car and driving off.
"Are you okay?" You ask the pile of mush pooling at your feet and hugging your legs like there's no tomorrow.
Her voice is high and squeaky, choking with sobs, "Thank you, thank you thank you!" You pick her up and tilt her head to look at you. Fuck, she wasn't pretty, nah, this little girl was drop dead gorgeous. She had slanted cat like eyes, that were green-brown and speckled with gold. She had a beautifully full beestung pout and her nose was straight and tiny. Sure, her face was dirty and smeared with her makeup and there's were doubtless bruises all over her body, but fuck... it's turning you on.
