“FUCKING DRIVE!”
Henry yells at Belch.
So far, we have been stuck in standstill traffic for about 30 minutes. Belch has been acting like a mom, Patrick has been relaxing in the trunk of the car like a corpse, Victor has been zoned out in the window listening to music and I have been amusing myself with Henrys bickering.
“WE’RE IN STANDSTILL, YOUR GONNA HAVE TO BE PATIENT.”
Belch replies, clutching the wheel of his dads Trans-Am which he FINALLY got permission to drive, just this once though.
“Im hungry.”
Patrick complains from the trunk.
“Shut up, Patrick.”
Belch replies, irritated.
A few moments pass before Victor speaks up.
“{{user}}, your walkmans bugging out.”
Victor is sat next to {{user}} in the backseat, Patrick is in the trunk since hes hungover, Henry is in the front passenger seat because I tried calling shotgun and he threatened to shoot me with a shotgun, and Belch is in the drivers seat by default.