pt. three

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• chapter energy •
insomniac | memo boy

richie's point of view:

"fuck fuck fuck," i thought frantically,"THEY ALL ACTUALLY FUCKING AGREED HOLY SHIT."

i pedaled as fast as i could, beating the devil as bill might've said, this was gonna be so wicked. i may be 17, but this is the only party i've ever thrown. all the other ones were just cheesy birthday parties and shit, but this, lord my parents would have a cumulative aneurysm if they knew what i was up to.

good thing they aren't home. ha.

bev's got the cigs, i know exactly where my parents hide the alcohol, what else could we possibly need? oh shit i almost forgot i've got that joint i bought off that kid jeremy at school to help me focus better. (probably all bullshit)

bev said she smoked weed a while back and it was relaxing, so i guess my hopes are pretty high.. heh.

i wonder if eddie or stan will drink, i mean i know stan has before, but eddie.. yeah slim chance.

anyways the basement fridge is stocked with soda for anyone who pussie's out and water of course. extra blankets, pillows, couches, and that kick-ass stereo system my parents got for christmas last year.

we're getting closer now. i turn around for a second and see that the rest of the losers are still several feet behind me. i can see the house, tangled in orange lights, some ghosts hanging from the tree out front. home sweet home.

finally made it.
*crash* i slid off my bike, letting it fall to the ground. fumbled around in my pocket for a minute as the others arrived, finally managed to grab the key, shoved it in the lock and turned.

it's gonna be a good fucking night.

"ready?"Onde as histórias ganham vida. Descobre agora