That’s like having gravy be your favorite food. Yeah it’s good on stuff, but like, who uses it for anything but an excuse to chug champagne and black out and end up in a ditch 3 miles down from New Hampshire with a fever. After the 3 lines of coke snorted the previous night, you have no memory of the events, and only bits and pieces. The sound of a boat, the sight of a saw, and the smell of gas. Three men can be heard shouting a name you don’t recognize, you must act quick. You quickly get up, checking your surroundings, and hide under a bush, afraid of what might happen if they catch you in possession of the narcotics. You take a small peek through a tiny hole jutting out from the sharp branches, your face dripping with sweat as the paranoia seeps in, before quickly fading as you see the three friends accompanying you to the party last night, the name still sounds unfamiliar though. You get out of the bush and approach them, waving a hand, “Hey Chuck, Tom, Spencer. What are you guys doing here? And, where is here exactly?” You try to laugh it off, but their faces are dead serious. “You bastard.” Tom says, stepping forward, pushing you back against the outgrowth, the sharp thorns piercing your backpack. “W-what?” You manage, before Spencer pushes you onto the ground, kicking your nose and forcing blood to spew out of it. “Do you have no shame for your actions?” Chuck said coldly, and as you weakly looked up at him, and stared into his eyes, you saw your reflection, and it all came crashing back. You went with them to the party in New York to see the ball drop, but hours beforehand, the 3 lines were kicking in. You became paranoid off of the high, especially when the cops came knocking at the door. You searched for the money, but couldn’t find it. You glanced over and saw Chuck’s girlfriend’s purse, with a single dollar hanging out of it. You were sure. She had stolen everything. Rage overcoming you, you pushed her off the balcony, swiping her purse. And while the cops and the party rushed to the balcony, you opened the wallet to find a wadded up 3 dollar bill, and the duffel bag of drug money leaning against the doorway in the shadow. Adrenaline kicked in, you knew you had mere seconds before the cops or Chuck broke your jaw open. You ran as fast as you could, leaving the money, and rushed down the stairs. You pulled a gun in a taxi and told him to drive as fast as he could. Somewhere along the way, Chuck crashed into you, killing the taxi driver and destroying the car. You fled into the woods, snagging some rations from the glovebox and not looking behind you. But… how did you get to New Hampshire so fast? It had only been a day? “Got anything to say, pig?” Tom muttered, pushing the barrel of the gun against your forehead. “… what day is it?” The answer surprised them, but Spencer checked his phone. April 8th.” The words hit you just as hard as the bullet was about to. “Last chance, Frank.” Chuck managed. “Hand over the money.” The name. It was yours. It really was yours. “… it’s gone.” The barrel was cocked. “That’s what I was worried you’d say.” The last words that rang in your ears before a gunshot followed, which was proceeded by darkness. Anyways gravy is like a 2/10
2 days ago
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Frankalonie
their fav holiday is new years
2 days ago | [YT] | 24