Brad needed this party. Stress had once more reared it's ugly head and sent him into a frenzy of action. Struggling with punishing deadlines, spending long days hunched over cryptic books and vainly attempting to organize lazy workmates had left the young man feeling as worn out as a fat man's pair of tights. No amount of working out at the gym had helped to reinvigorate Brad, the only solution now was to have one hell of party, to just cut loose and get his groove on.
He was suddenly shaken out of his reverie when he realized that one of his friends had addressed him, repeatedly by the sound of things.
"Yo, Brad, snap the fuck out of it, man! Earth to Brad, seriously! Wakey wakey!" Freddy yammered, as we was wont to do. "This party is gonna be OFF THE HOOK, bro'! And here you are all bizzer man! Fallin' asleep on us? Shit you ain't even touched your shit, man! You got some catchin' up to do!"
"Man, shut the fuck up!" Brad drawled in reply, and swiftly downed his drink; a mixture of vodka, rum and fruit soda. It was smooth and felt good. "John! Break the stuff out and let's have us another round!"
On the other side of the cramped dorm room, John stood up from where he had sat slumped against a bookshelf and, with the careful steps of those who are in a chemically induced state, made his way to a glass cabinet where he kept his booze, or as Brad had put it, "the stuff". He rummaged around in the cabinet for a while and finally came over with a number of bottles, each more exotically labeled than the last.
"Sheeeiit!" exclaimed Freddy, a huge toad grin splitting his narrow, bony face "You've got some hardcore shit up in this bitch, bro'! That's enough booze to float a fucking cruiser, yo!"
"Yep" John replied, and unable to resist the infectious quality of Freddy's smile, flashed a broad grin of his own, lighting up his usually sombre and dark face.
Brad smiled as well as he slowly stood up from John's and couch stretched greatly, brushing his fingertips against the low ceiling of John's little dorm room, before making his away across the tiny space and getting to work on refilling his glass.
"Hey, John, I gotta thank you for having us over for the warmup, man! This place is pretty sweet: close to the party and full of booze." Brad said with a broad smile on his cleanly shaven face.
"It ain't no thing, Brad. Also, I expect that you'll restock my cabinet" John replied and indicated his stash of "the stuff", now visibly diminished after the ravages of the thirsty trio.
"Sure thing, man!"
"Yeah yeah yeah, whatever dudes! You chattin' or drinkin'? Let's down these mothers and hit the road!" Freddy nattered from his seat on the corner of John's unmade bed.
"He's got a point" John admitted.
Brad just shrugged and held his tumbler out. "Here's to one hell of a party!"
"Hell yeah!" his friends cheered in unison, before all three of them downed their final drinks and slammed the tumblers down on the table.
They all stood and started to smooth out their clothes and generally get ready to head out. Brad was wearing a simple black tank-top and a pair of snugly fitting jeans. Usually he felt that it was hard to properly carry a tank-top, but tonight he felt that he could get away with it and the fact that it showed off his physique was an added bonus. He was in good shape, but not musclebound, and the lack of sleeves presented his broad shoulders well.
Freddy straightened his "lucky hoodie", a piece of apparel so ancient that it had probably seen the rise and fall of the roman empire. It was covered in patches and no two were alike in shape, size or colour. The repairs had in some places gone so far that the patches had patches. Yet he swore by it and said that it gave him luck with the ladies. "Whatever floats his boat" Brad thought to himself.
After a quick rummage through his closet, John decided on a simple short-sleeved shirt to go with his shorts. He was a simple dresser.
"That's enough standing around, ladies!" roared Brad "Let's get this show on the road!"
And with another cheer the trio set off through the night.
The party, or rather, the parties were indeed, off the hook. One could go so far as to say that the hook was no longer in sight, and might in fact be on a wholly different continent.
Spread across several dorm buildings, and spilling out onto the campus grounds in between, the festivities were loud, frenetic and absolutely awesome. The trio soon found themselves swept up into the partying masses and were funneled around with no real sense of direction, time or balance.
The latter was no real problem though, as the bouncing bodies of young men and women were so tightly packed that falling over was simply impossible. Somehow from somewhere somebody had managed to scrounge up a cover-band that was shredding through their set list on a hastily thrown together stage, complete with stage divers. The crowd was going wild, screaming along with the singer and flinging themselves off the stage, and even off the roof of a nearby bicycle shed, to land on the upraised hands of the cheering masses. Brad watched, stupefied, as Freddy clambered up onto the stage, arms held high, hands throwing up the horns, and screaming a wordless roar throw himself onto the crowd where he was carried away.
