Welcome to the first part of our ongoing story “And after that…” a continuous, weekly story based entirely on viewer comments on which of the options our story will go next.
I guess think Choose Your Own Adventure, but online and with more booze in the beginning. Anyway, hope you enjoy and thanks for reading!
And After That – Part 1
Lester bargained between one finger and the next the silver ring that rolled back in forth in his hand. So many stories start with a ring, he thought. There are the rings of power, probably the most confusing and inconsistent of any that ever were. There were the ones that you fought for, scrupulously and by any means, to say all those years of jocking and juicing meant something, that you, dear insert-sport-here player were more brilliant than the rest. Lester though found himself with the heaviest, most cliche’ of the bunch, the clunky catastrophe of a glint that he’d planned now for months to give to Lisa.
On a Tuesday night 73’s wasn’t worth the price they’d charged for a Coors. The bar was anything but bustling and found themselves so lazy that even the electronic juke box was turned to auto in order to avoid taking your order. It was everything he needed. In less than thirty minutes Lester would find himself the most interesting he’d ever been, so the reprieve was more than warranted.
“Hey Steve, I’ll take a shot of tequila.” Lester calls out, the echoing boom of his voice through the empty establishment giving the bartender a shudder. Lester was never a tequila man, he was a no nonsense Miller Light bro until his late twenties before he slipped on an eye shadow envious pair of Ray-Band’s and discovered where to find a thrift store, and even after that PBR was the furthest he’d venture. This isn’t to say anything wrong about Lester, he was a decent man with decent teeth and a decent set of character traits that we’ll be sure to cover in the info dump eventually, but he wasn’t a tequila man.
“You sure?” There would be a great deal of things Lester wasn’t sure of, but digestible courage at three dollars a shot wasn’t one of them. He shot, he swallowed, and he left. This was the end of his life and the beginning of theirs, he told himself, no matter what the bulging pain in the paper clip legs or the fluttering shift within his unsorted mind gave him he knew that Lisa was waiting. What was also waiting on North High ST. at the dead of night for him though was what could only be called the Buick of destiny, the car blazing by and shooting water against his face. A splash of water can only do so much, but to a man who flails wildly at the peripheral threat of movie cut outs it is more than enough.
The ring slips from his hands and flings outward, finding a comfort in darkness and away from him, and after that…?
So what happens next? Make a comment with the option from below and thanks for reading!