I was trying to make some breakfast, heck, anything edible, when Tucker walked in with a plastic bag. He grinned at me as he sat down on the table.
"Hey, Church," he called as I set down the burn eggs and bacon, "guess what I've got."
I yawned as I tried the eggs. They were terrible. "If it's another pair of c-"
"No man!" Tucker yelled, clearly disgusted, "just because you need them-"
"Just get on with it!" I yelled, trying to make him forget the incident.
"Oh, yeah," Tucker sat back down, a smirk on his face. "Well, I traded my rock for some of Grif's, you know, that red guy, beer."
"No way," I said, finally choking down the charred bacon, "I am not drinking that. No way."
"Ah, c'mon," Tucker weedled, "it's good for you, just try it. Bow-chicka-bow-wow, if you know what I mean."
I sighed, and reached for the bottle.