We're driving back from the wedding, and my hands hurt and I've got a mark over my eye. He found his shirt out in the street in front of the hotel. You can do the math.

"Fuck you," I say.

"What? I make things interesting."

"No. You guys suck. Here I am trying to be decent guy, trying to grow up, and you every time I hand out with you fucks I end back where I started. You're like crabs, that's what you are. I'm trying to climb the fuck out of the bucket, and you motherfuckers are pulling me right back in. I hate you."

"I barely remember anything... I just remember getting hit, ending up on the ground, and realizing I got hit," he says.

"Yea and another thing you fat fuck, I don't want to hear your short jokes anymore, because that's the second time that I've saved your ass from getting killed."

"Eh... whatever. You're the one who stole the guy's car keys."

"Well yea. I mean, fuck him. But still..."