Here at McDonalds, sitting outside under a tree with my Diet Coke, just now, around five. Guy about twenty-one, twenty-two, in a black muscle shirt that hangs loose on him and baggy black shorts, with a black plastic rope choker, mouse brown hair cut down to fuzz, large nose that looks like it’s been broken a couple of times, stands in the parking lot, making a call on his cell while a friend waits behind the wheel of his car.
“Hi Mom? Do you know if we have a tap for a keg at home? We don’t? Do you want to buy us one? You don’t? We have a keg. We don’t have a tap. They’re expensive. What’s that? What time should you be here? You want to come drink our beer?”