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At Least There’s Beer

Her yellow tank top made her tan skin glow. Frat boys brought her warm beer to win her favor. I watched as they tried to talk with her, but she dispatched each within seconds. You’d think this would deter me from approaching her, but the six shots and few beers I pregamed with in my dorm room before the “frat rager” provided me with enough liquid courage for me to think I was special.

I filled up my red solo cup and headed towards the only cute girl in the basement.

“Hi, I’m Brian.”

She was even sexier when she rolled her eyes at me.

“Kelly.”

“I guess you don’t believe in magic,” I said before she could ignore me and get back to her conversation.

“What?”

“Do you believe in magic?”

“Magic?”

Kelly turned to face me. It was a strange question, but it got her attention.

“Yeah,” I said. “Magic.”

“What? No.”

I put the full red solo cup in front of her face. “Do you see the liquid in this cup?”

She looked confused, but she shook her head yes.

“I’m going to make it disappear.”

I used my other hand to flick the air above the beer. I spun around, opened my throat, and felt the nectar of Keystone Light shoot down my throat. In two gulps and three seconds, the beer was empty. I spun back around and presented the empty solo cup.

“Ta Da!”

She laughed. “That was impressive.”

“It’s a talent. A worthless one, but we’re all good at something. For me, it’s chugging beer.”

“I bet that’ll get you real far,” she said.

“It’s actually a family tradition.”

“Alcoholism?”

“That,” I said. “And my great grandfather was a bootlegger.”

“Liar,” she said.

“The cops would always come and search the house for illegal booze. Pretty much every two weeks. When they came, my grandmother and her sister used to pretend to be asleep in their beds. Every single time. Guess where the booze was?”

“Underneath the sleeping children’s beds?”

“Yeah,” I said. “I figure my great grandfather paid them off or the cops we’re idiots.”

“My boyfriend is studying criminal justice.”

Oops.

“Boyfriend as in … marriage material or just passing the time?” I asked.

Kelly pointed to a steroid infused human wearing bright blue Greek letters. He was guarding the entrance of the party, but he only kept his glaring eyes on me.

There was only one way to play this.

I lifted my empty beer towards the future police officer. “Great party!”

He didn’t even blink. I smirked at Kelly before I made my way back to the keg.

It wasn’t a total loss. I lasted longer than the other men. Solid performance if I say so myself. Even if she had a boyfriend. Wait. I wasted more time than everyone else who talked to her. Who was the sucker now?

I pointed the keg nozzle into my cup and poured.

At least there was beer.

Published inBlogSurviving America as a Millennial

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