Stuck and Drunk in Shadyside

By Mat Byerly

Max and his friends have always enjoyed a six-pack of beer in the woods.They all had high hopes and dreams of doing what they loved, including Max Pricer, the attractive and talented aspiring actor who didn't exactly know what he wanted out of life, other than hanging out with friends, dating girls and sipping

• Language: English
• Publisher: Sugartown Publishing
• Release date: Aug 15, 2020
• ISBN: 9781649219428

Book preview

Cheap Beer

I don’t know about this.

What’s the matter? I asked him.

We’re gonna get caught, worried Oreo. This was typical Oreo, just a nervous guy when it came to any broken rules. No wonder why he ended up becoming an accountant.

Oreo was Ollison Smith-Westin, who was going to Penn State with Max and I in the fall. I’d known him longer than any of the other guys, having gone to elementary school with him, and even preschool. He was annoying occasionally, but he’d mellowed out. I didn’t mind him either way.

His nickname goes back awhile, mainly from the movie The Mighty Ducks. Being a movie about hockey, one of the lines on the team was the Oreo line. He looked like one of the kids on that line. We never knew the kid’s name, so we just went with Oreo.

What are they gonna do? Throw us in jail for a little beer? Lunchbox said to him.

Rooster, Oreo, Lunchbox, and I sat at the park near Max’s house. Max and Felix were late as usual, and Oreo continued his nervous breakdown. Waiting for my friends was a common occurrence. They, more specifically Felix and Oreo, were usually late. I never knew why it happened, but we all took that into account when it came to meeting up, something I should’ve thought about that day.

There’s kids over there. And probably parents. Can’t we go somewhere more hidden?

Just wait until the others get here, I said.

Hey cops, there are a few illegal kids drinking some beers! yelled Rooster. Quickly, Oreo attacked, pushing Rooster off the picnic table.

You can’t hurt Rooster. Rooster’s body is actually worth something, I muttered. His name was Erick Oswalt, but we called him ‘Rooster’ because his song was Rooster by Alice in Chains. It also worked out that the other team can’t kill the Rooster or whatever the saying was. He was a lanky, dopey guy, a few weeks removed from being drafted in the MLB draft by the hometown Pittsburgh Pirates. It felt like some kind of joke, but he was a really good pitcher.

He deserved it, responded Oreo, while Rooster giggled, picking himself up, dusting himself off. He shouldn’t have said shit.

Who was gonna buy Max the beer? wondered Lunchbox.

So, picture this! An old school lunchbox that a steel worker would take to work with him, big and heavy, square and dense, capped off with a handle on top. That was Lunchbox, and that was how he acquired his nickname. In elementary school, he always packed his lunch using the same lunchbox. He used that lunchbox until he graduated. It was passed through his family of steelworkers over the years, and he embodied it. It was funny how he turned out. He looked like and acted like a blue-collared worker, but he’s practically the opposite.

His sister. I bet someone found out and told on Max. And his parents grounded him in the process.

That wouldn’t happen. Caroline’s cool, I inserted.

Why are you so paranoid? asked Rooster.

That quieted Oreo.

Suddenly, we saw Felix and Max scurry towards us, Felix holding a misshapen duffle bag.

Why are they walking so slow? Everyone could see they’re sneaking illegal contraband.

I feel like they’re moving quite briskly, observed Lunchbox.

Ha-ha! And look at that bag! It’s totally suspicious. We’re fucked. We’re fucked.

Jesus Christ, you gotta calm down, replied Rooster.

Hey guys! the approaching guys said, though Felix said it at a higher octave.

What’s in the bag, Felix? Lunchbox sarcastically asked.

What? What bag? Felix gently placed the bag on the table. You want to find out what’s in the mystery bag? He unzipped the bag slowly. There’s beer in here.

You gotta take it back. We’re not old enough for it yet.

Okay then. He zipped the bag up, but quickly reversed the process. He pulled out the bottles one-by-one, and passed them around until everyone got one.

Miller Lite?

Back in 2008, my friends and I would get together in the park and share a six-pack. This was the start of the tradition for the six of us. It wasn’t eloquent or anything special, just a few high school seniors that wanted some beer and to be idiots, not knowing how to get it, though. No one had a fake ID or anything, so we had to ask our older siblings. Everyone felt awkward about asking their older sibling except for Max, who’d asked his sister Caroline. She always bought the beer for us, but I think signals got crossed since she only bought us a six-pack. Maybe she thought it was only for Max, but I don’t know. Max could’ve had it all to himself, but decided to share it among the six of us. It was always shitty Miller Lite, so it might have been better if he’d kept it to himself. Either way, that’s how the tradition got started. And then we started to do it every year after.

Do we need bottle openers for these? I asked, looking around.

Nah man, just twist the top off, Rooster notified.

I was just wondering. Like what are bottle openers for?

Why’d your sister get this?

Max shrugged, and hoped onto the picnic table. I don’t know. I just told her to get whatever.

Felix stood in front of the group, with all of us, holding an opened beer. Lunchbox attempted to sip the beer.

Whoa, whoa, whoa, we said, to stop him, which we did before he made the sip.

What?

We should do a toast or something, right? Felix questioned.

You say it, Felix, encouraged Max. You proper son-of-a-gun.

Nah, that’s alright.

We believe in you.

Well, cheers to the graduating, I guess. We’re off to better things. Rooster should get drafted, Lunchbox is going to be a Harvard douche, one day I’ll be a doctor, and the rest of you will party at Penn State. So hopefully, we’ll have a good year. I’ll miss you guys.

We all tapped our bottles together, and we sipped our beer.

Beautiful, man, Lunchbox complimented.

Ah. Warm piss, Rooster said.

We tried to chill it for a bit, defended Felix.

Felix DeMont, which was his real name, was a tall guy that looked like a slacker, long-curly hair and unshaven. I guess it was unfair for me to call him that, but he didn’t always look like that. I looked like a slacker, but I always looked like this. Unlike the Penn State bunch, Felix was headed to the University of Pittsburgh, eventually hoping to become a professor.

Yeah, she got it warm, admitted Max.

So, we just gotta fight through the warmth, Lunchbox announced.

It’s easier to say than to do, Rooster responded.

C’mon bitches, it aint that bad. Max took a sip.

Max, tell Caroline thanks for the beer, reminded Felix.

Thanks, Caroline, we said in almost unison, out of tune and monotone.

I’ll tell her that, Max laughed a little.

Is there any more beer? Rooster wondered.

Nah, my sister just got a six-pack. I just thought there was six of us so one for each of us.

Rooster hopped off the table and tossed his glass bottle into the nearly empty aluminum garbage can, making a loud crashing noise.

What the fuck? You trying to cause a scene?

Rooster taunted and playfully pushed Oreo around. He became increasingly annoyed and tackled Rooster, rolling down a little hill. Oreo was serious; Rooster was giggling. We just watched, amused with the entertainment going on, drinking our warm beer.

Well, there goes Rooster’s career, Max stated.

He could’ve waited a few months and got paid but—

Now, he’ll never pitch again—

Getting beat up by a small, nerdy guy named Oreo, I finished the thought.

We should do this every year, Felix muttered.

Yeah, we could get a six-pack, hangout somewhere.

Hopefully, not warm Miller Lite. Something different, I added.

The two fighting moved slowly up the hill.

You guys want to do this every year? Felix asked.

I’ll fight Oreo every year.

It might be hard. One day, I’ll kill Rooster, and we’ll need to replace him.

But you can’t kill the Rooster, Lunchbox informed.

To quote the philosopher of Alice In Chains. The two sat back on the table, with Oreo resuming his beer. I continued, Every year, someone else could get the beer.

Well, when we’re twenty-one. We don’t know anyone cool that would buy us anything.

Max laughed. That’s true. But I’m sure Caroline probably would still help us out.

I think Angela is coming over, announced Oreo.

No! It’s just the six of us. You can’t change the tradition.

The tradition started five seconds ago.

She can come over. But only when we’re done with our beer and stuff.

She wouldn’t want a beer anyways.

It’s nothing against her. It’s—

Male bonding time, Lunchbox interrupted.

Basically. Bro time? Nah, that sounds weird, too.

Six pack time. Time just with us six, I interjected.

So, when can she come? Oreo worried.

Whenever we’re all done, I guess, led Max.

Oreo chugged his beer. He hopped off the table and looked at us with cartoonish eyes and his tongue hanging out. His knees acted like hydraulics, bouncing his body like a marionette.

So, is this how drunk Oreo is? Lunchbox asked.

Oreo regained his normal self. Chugging that beer was exhilarating.

What is that? Is someone coming? Rooster shouted.

Oreo turned around frantically and realized it was Rooster messing with him again, fighting but in a harmless, entertaining way. We laughed at them.

I hope this never changes.

We know you being a little bitch will never change, Max attacked Felix.

Thanks.

I guess we’ll see, I thought.

Max Pricer wasn’t introduced yet, mainly because I never knew how to put him into words. (Maybe I shouldn’t have wrote this then…) He was small, skinny, tan kid that lived in the Pittsburgh suburbs all his life. He was a handsome fellow, with a nice head of hair. Everyone loved him, the guys, the girls, the jocks, the nerds, the teachers, the coaches, and so-on. That was annoying. But it was even more annoying because he was the most talented person I’ve ever met. He could’ve done anything he wanted. He had all of the options, but he never clearly knew which direction he wanted. I have always been jealous of this guy, so I felt like I was the perfect person to tell you his story since I was his best friend (no offense, Oreo).

First Day of My Life

Hey, Tori!

Hey, Wallace, how are you? How was break?

I paused as I gathered my notebooks in my backpack. Everyone flooded out of the room as the meteorology class was dismissed. It was okay, nothing special. How was yours? We walked out of the class behind the so-called flood.

It was nice. Got to hang with my family a lot. It was weird not seeing them for so long, but then spending the next three weeks with them. Ya know?

I nodded. We entered the blistery winter air, gusting and swirling. We braced ourselves, but it wasn’t really effective. My friends and I were college seniors at this point. Tori was a year behind us.

How are you wearing a jacket like that?

What? It’s a jacket.

No, it’s a hoodie. And it’s sooo thin.

It keeps me warm.

"I doubt it."

It’s been protecting me for years, and I haven’t died yet!

"There’s always this year."

I laughed.

How’s your schedule lookin’?

A few electives and linear. My only major class really. I shivered, but I hoped it wasn’t noticeable, with a quiver in my throat. What about you?

She braced herself for another vicious gust. "A lot of engineering classes. So, it should be fun."

I could only imagine.

You’re graduating this year?

Yeah, if I get lucky.

I’m sure you will. Electives are always a breeze, and linear isn’t bad at all.

Thanks for the confidence, Tori. I’m glad you got my back.

She smiled. Well—

Wallace! Max appeared from behind me. I thought it was you.

Hey, man.

What are you up to? A few of us are gonna go play ping pong. Max looked away from me to Tori, who was going to leave but instead waited around to hear from Max. Hey, I’m Max. He put his hand out.

I’m Tori. They shook.

We’ve had a few classes together, I clarified Max.

Cool. You wanna come too, Tori?

I’m not the biggest fan of ping pong.

It’s cool. We all suck!

He’s lying. He’s the best, I clarified again.

Well, Wallace…You can fuck off.

Thanks, Max.

Why are you guys standing in the cold?

We were walking—

Until you stopped me.

Ah, blaming me! So, let’s start walking, Max commanded. We walked at a brisk pace, in a random direction since it wasn’t the direction I was headed. But anywhere was better than outside.

So, Tori, what’s your major?

Environmental Engineering.

That’s cool. So, you’re one of those smart people? He broke off the statement with a little laugh. Why that?

I always thought about majoring in Engineering since junior year of high school, but I never knew what kind. I just kind of landed upon it in one of my classes freshmen year, and I never looked back. What about you, Max?

I’m a Film/English double major.

"Oh?" She looked intrigued, while also seeming concerned.

Yeah, I was with Wallace for a few years. And then I changed paths to something I’ve wanted. To something I care about—It was different before. Every class was a drag and a task. But now, it just feels different. I feel happier.

That’s always good.

I think so. I don’t know if anyone else feels the same way.

Eh, I responded, from the back of the pack.

Well, no one asked you, Wallace! Max said as he looked back at me.

We entered the Hub, which felt so much better than I could’ve ever imagined.

I was gonna meet some friends for dinner. You guys could join?

Well—

We would, Max interrupted. But we already committed to ping pong. Maybe, some other time?

Okay, she smiled.

It was nice meeting you, Tori.

Nice meeting you, too. She moved away from us.

I’ll see you around. Tori turned around and smiled, as she walked away.

Max and I stood there for a moment. I could tell Max liked something about her. It obviously wasn’t anything physical since she was all covered up in a heavy jacket, but he could still see that she was an awfully pretty girl with an enlightening personality.

Do you like her?

I shrugged, but he didn’t see that. "Do you wanna date her?"

He shrugged, but I saw the movement. I just met the girl. We were silent for a moment.

I don’t want to play ping pong.

He laughed. You’re playing ping pong.

First Date

A plate smashed to the ground, making Max look back to where it had come from but he learned nothing new. He waited alone in the chain restaurant, heavily populated with guests and hectic workers, being busy early, oddly. He was a tad nervous, though it wasn’t noticeable if ever it was. His jacket laid next to him in the booth, which looked out at the dark parking lot. He sat there, sipping his iced tea, wondering if the collar was straight on his polo shirt, the one which Oreo always gave him shit for.

She walked in; Max stood up, taking one step towards her direction, but she saw him. She then came towards him. He watched her dodge oncoming traffic. She looked wonderful, wearing dark blue jeans, a frilly white blouse underneath a heavy jacket that was already unzipped. That girl was Tori.

Hey, she said, hugging him. She took off her wool cap.

How are you doing? Max asked, as they both sat down.

Alright. How long have you been waiting?

Not long. I wasn’t doing much so I thought it wouldn’t be too bad to be a little early.

Cool, cool. She took off her jacket, putting it beside her with her hat and her purse. Her shirt sleeves were pulled a bit up her forearms. She picked up the menu. What are you getting?

I’m not sure, he wondered, looking also at the menu.

We could do that two for twenty thing?

That would be cute. That’s a thing to do on dates, right?

She giggled. I would think.

Let’s do that then.

They placed their order which was the same thing, for the most part. They both ordered the bacon cheeseburger. Max’s had no tomatoes; Tori’s had no onions. Other than that, their meals came with some fries and a side salad.

Tori’s iced water with lemon was brought over, allowing her to finally sip on something. Max looked at her through the semi-awkward silence.

Sooo... he said.

So? she said with a grin.

So, I feel like it’s only natural to ask date questions now.

I guess. She shrugged, but returned to smiling after it.

Sooo Tori, do you want to have children? he asked as if he was the host of a dating show.

She laughed before taking another sip, then nodding. Yeah, definitely.

How many? One? Two? Four! Ten!

She laughed again, which started to be a common theme of the night. I don’t know about ten, but probably more than one. One’s kinda lonely.

Yeah, true. I feel as though that wouldn’t be too great. Boring more than anything.

Yeah, definitely.

I learned mostly cuz of my siblings—well, my sisters.

Sisters? Oh, okay. I only have brothers.

Ah, I see. Over-protective older brothers...

How did you know?

He laughed. Just my luck, I guess. You really have older brothers?

Yep! Two?

Yeah, me too—well, you know. Two older sisters, Caroline and Charlotte. They taught me a lot about girls.

My brothers taught me how guys are gross. And assholes.

Max laughed.

Well, not really assholes. But you know how guys are.

I am a guy. And I am an asshole.

She giggled. I’m not saying that—

I’m kidding! he interrupted her. How older are your brothers?

Ahh, twenty-six, and I think...twenty-eight...Yeah. And twenty-eight.

Oh, those are much older brothers.

Yep. Snake and Dennis.

Max wore a confused look. Did you say Snake?

She laughed. Sorry, that’s his nickname. His real name is Arnold.

Ah okay, that makes more sense.

It’s a nickname he got in the Army. It kinda got stuck on us, too. Just Mom calls him Arnold.