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Brendon Urie was your typical stoner. He wore a beanie and a button up Hawaiian shirt. He spent most of his days smoking weed and playing music.
Brielle Sampson was your typical college student. She was stressed, depressed, and drank her problems away. She spent most of her days crying and drinking.
"Fuck." Brielle stumbled through the woods. "Where the fuck am I, god damn it?" She walked past the trees and came upon a guy smoking weed on a stump.
"Hey. Yo, bitch." she called out. "Where the fuck am I?"
Brendon looked over at the drunk girl.
"Chill. You're in a forest. Can't you see the trees?"
"Well n-no fucking shit." She walked up to him. "Why are you staring at that there moon, home dog?" She sat next to him.
"It's speaking to me."
"You're insane, dickhead. That's a moon."
"You need to believe."
Brielle squinted at the moon. Suddenly, a face appeared.
"Dude!" She slapped Brendon's arm. " That's your fucking face on that moon!"
"I told you." He stared over at her. "Hey, you're drunk."
"Shut the fuck up. I'm not as think as you drunk I am." She stared back up at the moon.
"You wanna make out?"
"Fuck no."
Brendon looked away. "So, is he speaking to you?"
"No. He's just making weird faces. His mouth is moving, but I don't hear anything. What a rip off."
Brendon stared over at her. "Hey."
"What?"
"I know what the moon is saying."
"What's he saying?"
"He's telling me to get some of that pussy."
Brielle looked up at the moon. He was now wearing sunglasses and nodded his head.
She stood up. "Eh. Why the hell not." She grabbed Brendon's hand and they walked out of the woods.
