In My Garage
It was the day before the end of the world, at least that's what the news media and the ancient Mayans believed. No one really knew what was going to happen at the end but it was going to happen, goddamn it. And no one cared about the details of how it was going to happen. The end was the end. The end. End. It just seemed so final.
A couple of years ago, I made a pact with my two best friends, Nolan and Jacob (I'm using codenames, by the way). We decided that we would spend the last night before the end of the world partying in my garage. We compiled a list of required items for the party: keg of beer, carton of cigarettes, liter of vodka, liter of spiced rum, mixers, ounce of weed, a pipe, a ten pound brisket, our favorite barbeque sauce, etc. And we agreed that if our lives were in a certain state by the time the world was going to end, then the three of us would convene in my garage, no matter what, and drink and smoke and eat ourselves silly.
And as luck would have it (if there was any luck left at all before the world was going to end), our lives were already ruined. So the party was on!
