Well, it's been a while since I posted a bit of impromptu storyness so I aim to rectify this. It's not really one of my favorite bits, but it's ok. Might be good to fit into something longer someday. Enjoy!

I should check my machine. There might be a message on it. I don't know who from. That's a lie. I only care if it's from one person. Well, maybe two if you count my grandma. But she didn't leave answering machine messages, there would just be an awkward pause and maybe a hearing aid whistling in the background and a click.

My beer is getting warm which I turn into another excuse to go home. Before I went out tonight I swore to myself I wouldn't get hung up on this. I said I'd enjoy my evening and do whatever Jeff and Rob thought would be fun to do after we left the bar. I'm trying to keep a positive attitude and forget the nagging feeling that however lame sitting in my apartment watching television hoping I get a phone call may be, it won't be any worse than watching Jeff try to hit on the waitress.

And then someone spills beer down my back. What kind of life do you lead when choosing to be pathetic is the better of your choices? Rob slides in next to me and wraps his arm around my shoulder.

"Hey buddy, you havin' fun?"

I want to be diplomatic and polite and he's drunk so I do the easiest thing I can think of; I lie. "Yeah, this is great. I needed to get out for a while." I'm already secretly concocting some sort of headache or stomach ailment that will get me out of whatever they have planned next.

"Damn straight you did. You've been mopin' around that apartment for a week now. We had to show everyone you weren't some kind of pussy. Me and Jeff said that if you'd said no to going out tonight we were just going to come by, kick down your door and take you to Mexico or some damn thing." Rob laughs as if he and Jeff had actually had that conversation. When Rob got drunk he always thought of Jeff as his sidekick and would plot elaborate madcap adventures after the fact that they had in store.

"No, it's great. I'm glad I got to come out for a while tonight...—"

"For a while? Hell, you'll be going until dawn," Rob lets out a wheezing laugh that smells of cheap cigarettes and watered-down beer. I could be watching reruns of "Murder She Wrote" on my couch feeling lonely but glad I wasn't wearing warm beer and having my life plotted for me by my drunk friends from college. The more I think of it the less pathetic I feel my original plans were. I could even make some macaroni and cheese and eat it from the pan.

Jeff slides in across from me. "I got her number!" he proclaimed as he slapped down a bar napkin on the table top. He crossed his arms with a self-satisfied smirk. Rob lets out a little whoop and smile. I force the smile but I feel like sighing. The worst thing for these two is encouragement. But part of me can't help but be a little impressed. Maybe tonight is a time of miracles after all. I've already been baptized in a stream of Pabst Blue Ribbon so maybe it's my turn to be born again. I'll be John the Baptist. Someone bring me my head on a silver platter, it's gonna be a long night.

-Joe