Nothin' but beer.

Content Warning: This story contains frequent use of profanity, body weight insensitivity, and substance abuse.

It was the hottest day of the year, and Jerry was freezing his ass off.

“Damn, I hate working the cooler,” Jerry said while rubbing his arms quickly to generate some heat. “Is it just me, or is it always us unloading the truck?” Jerry asked Darrell.

“I dunno, guess I never thought much of it,” Darrell replied. “I don’t care, anyway. It beats sweatin’ to death in the hot kitchen.”

“Gotta disagree there, bud,” Jerry said. “Why are you a cook if you hate the kitchen so much, anyway?”

“Do I look like I hate the kitchen?” Darrell asked and pushed out his stomach. “I just hate the damn heat. I’m not a skinny little bitch, like you,” he said and shoved Jerry into a stack of frozen french fry boxes as he walked by.

“Yea, I know, you’re a big fat bitch,” Jerry replied and feinted a strike at Darrell’s groin, prompting a preemptive ‘oof’ out of Darrell.

“Don’t play,” Darrell said, shaking his head.

“Speaking of big fat bitches, here comes Sharron,” Jerry said.

“Having fun yet, boys? I bet your little peters are shriveled up like raisins, huh?” she laughed and wiggled a small piece of french fry in front of her crotch to mock them.

“You just can’t stop thinking about my johnson, can ya?” Darrell retorted and chucked a box of lettuce onto the top shelf of the cooler.

“Oh yes, how could I ever forget the best thirteen seconds of my life.” Sharron held her hands to her heart and looked longingly to the ceiling before rolling her eyes. Jerry snickered at Darrell. “Y’all better quit milking this job back here. You know the store manager is keeping tabs on hours,” she warned. “The last table of the night was just seated, so you’ve got thirty more minutes, then I’m clocking you out.”

“Yea, whatever,” Darrell said. “Hey, speaking of milking, why don’t you milk those big saggin’ udders so they quit draggin’ the floor?” Darrell asked, Jerry burst into laughter. Sharron flipped’em the bird over her shoulder as she walked away.

“Bro, I can’t believe you actually tapped that,” Jerry said, shaking his head. “What’s wrong with you?”

“A fifth of Jack Daniels, that’s what.”

“That’s too much, man,” Jerry replied.

“Yea, I guess.”

“Ugh, why didn’t you tell me Jerry and Darrell were back there?” Tina asked Sharron as they met at the hostess stand. “What a couple of dickheads.”

“Yea, they’re pretty much the worst. Not three brain cells between the two of’em.”

“Well, if I recall correctly, you and Darrell had a thing last summer, hmmm?” Tina taunted while wiping menus clean with a dirty dish cloth.

“Ew, bitch, no. We were just drunk at Trevor’s. There was no thing,” Sharron clarified and put air quotes around ‘thing’.

“Yea, sure. You know you’d let’im again,” Tina said.

“Oh, ok, well what about you and Jerry? Hm?”

“What?!” Tina asked and laughed. “That literally never happened. Don’t make up stories just to cover your tracks, Sharron.”

“Pfft, whatever. Anyway, what’re you doing after work?” Sharron asked.

“I-D-K. It’s my last weekend before going back to school, so we should do something, right? I think Trevor’s having a party. I’m sure Darrell will be there, wanna go?” Tina asked and raised her eyebrows, smiling with insinuation.

Sharron rolled her eyes. “Yea, I don’t think so. I’ll prolly just lay low tonight, binge-watch Netflix or something.”

“Come on, don’t be lame! You live, like, one mile from Trev. Just show up and see how it is. You can always leave if it sucks.”

“We’ll see,” Sharron said and grabbed her purse. “I’m done for the night. Lock the door behind me, please.”

Sharron flopped onto her couch holding a bag of popcorn, turned on ‘Squid Game’, and started scrolling Instagram.

A girl with no apparent flaws instructed her on how to properly apply makeup to hide this, or accentuate that. All the tips and tricks you need in order to look as flawless as her little 5’2” 110lb self. Sharron looked sideways in the mirror at her ‘ugly’ nose and scrolled on.

The next influencer wanted to inform Sharron of what was preventing her from losing weight and having her dream body. Just subscribe to her course and she’ll let you in on the secret!

Sharron stood up and turned sideways toward the mirror and sucked in. “What’s the use?” she asked herself and fell back onto the couch, then watched a tall mechanical woman pump bullets into unsuspecting Koreans on the TV.

She tossed her phone to the other end of the couch and turned up the volume.

Darrell slammed the trailer door shut and pounded it with his fist, signaling to the truck driver that they were done unloading.

“Thanks,” he said and raised his hand to the face looking back at him in the rear-view mirror.

“Ten o’clock, fat boy. You coming to Trevor’s? Everyone else is half drunk by now,” Jerry said and pulled out a flask. He took a long swig from it. “Gotta catch up,” he hissed and handed it to Darrell.

“I dunno. I guess,” Darrell replied and took a sip. “I’m riding with you, though. I can’t get another DWI.” Darrell squeezed himself into Jerry’s 2012 Honda Civic.

Jerry’s tires squealed out of the parking lot, his high pitch exhaust and pounding bass let the whole town know he was on the move. Darrell slumped against the passenger door and scrolled Telegram.

He was reliably informed that he was eating too much soy, and that if he wanted to get shredded, he’d have to give up carbs altogether.

And also, if he isn’t doing a HIT routine in the gym at least six days a week, then he’s basically wasting his time.

And, if he isn’t bench pressing at least 300lbs, “It’s like, do you even lift, bro?” the male-modelesque figure on the screen continued to chastise Darrell personally.

Fed up, he switched to Instagram and scrolled through his DMs until he came to an old message from Sharron; a green dot indicated she was online. He opened it; the most recent message was from last summer, “Lol,” with a smiley face.

Darrell locked his phone and tossed it onto the floor board, catching Jerry’s eye.

“What’s wrong with you?” he yelled over the music.

“Nothing,” Darrell mouthed, and turned his face toward the window.

Jerry quickly spotted Tina as they walked into Trevor’s and ran off to try his luck. Early 2000’s hip-hop pounded Darrell’s head as smoke swirled around the room. He weaved his way toward Trevor through the crowd of people.

“Yo, man, you look like you could use a drink,” Trevor said. “All good?” he asked and handed Darrell a shot of Jack Daniels.

Darrell accepted it without a word and clinked his glass against Trevor’s before downing it, then walked straight back out the door he’d entered through.

He stood on the front porch, drew in a deep breath of the muggy summer air, and looked to the stars as he slowly let it out. He pulled out his last Marlborough Red, lit it, and leaned over the porch rail.

“Fuck it,” he thought and opened his text message app.

Darrell: Whacha doin?

Sharron: Nuthin

Sharron: Y?

Darrell: Y nothin?

Sharron: Idk

Darrell: Come to Trevs

Sharron: Ha! What for?

Sharron: So you can clown me in front of Jerry?

Darrell: Don’t be like that

Darrell: U know were just playin

Sharron: Do I?

Darrell: U should

Sharron: Whatvr. Ur an asshole

The front door flew open and Jerry bounced out to the beat of a Lil’ Wayne song.

“Yo, man! What the hell are you doing out here?! Come to the garage, I need a beer pong partner; four full cups, pick your spots,” Jerry said and jumped onto Darrell’s back.

Darrell glanced at his phone. “Aight,” he said and carried Jerry to the garage.

“Me and Jerry versus Darrell and Trev,” Tina yelled as they entered the garage.

Jerry dropped off Darrell’s back and shot him a look of surprise.

“Oh, you drag me in here and now you’re gonna bail on your boy for a girl? You whipped bitch,” Darrell said and poked Jerry in the chest.

“Sorry, bud,” Jerry replied with a shrug as Tina grabbed his arm.

“That’s alright. Me and Darrell are returning champs, anyway. Hope you’re ready to get drunk,” Trevor said and sank his first shot.

“Can’t get me drunk, I already am,” Jerry replied and pounded the full solo cup of Busch Light.

Darrell took his shot.

Missed.

Jerry’s turn, “Money,” he called as it flew through the air.

Swish.

Darrell downed the drink and then checked his phone.

No messages.

Tina shoots; air ball.

“Y’all don’t stand a chance,” Trevor said. Darrell and Trevor both took a shot at the same time.

“Ahhh, two drinks for Tina!” Darrell bellowed and fist bumped Trevor.

“Come on, you guys!” Tina whined and took a sip.

Darrell laughed and walked to the radio to turn it up—headlights pulled up to the house and quickly cut off.

“Who’s that?” Jerry asked.

“Not sure, can’t tell what kinda car it is,” Darrell replied.

Tina took another shot. Another air ball. “Dammit, I suck!”

Jerry took two steps back from the table and shot a fade-away, “Kobe!” he called out and drained it. “I can’t be stopped, boy!” he said and flexed in front of Darrell.

“Man, sit your skinny ass down,” Darrell laughed and threw an empty cup at him.

Outside, a group of people could be seen through the small garage-door windows, welcoming the new arrival who had just parked. A few moments later, the garage door creaked open.

Darrell stopped in his tracks as Sharron walked in.

“I thought you weren’t coming,” he smiled.

“I never said that. I said you’re an asshole,” Sharron replied with a smirk.

“Wait, what? What the hell are you two talking about?” Jerry asked. His eyes then widened with realization, “Aw no, don’t tell me—”

Darrell pushed Jerry into the wall, walked straight toward Sharron, grabbed her by the waist, and planted a big, burly, bearded kiss onto her lips without hesitation.

Trevor fist pumped. “Whoa, alright Darrell! Let’s gooooo!”

“Awwww,” Tina said. She pouted her lower lip and became genuinely misty-eyed. “I knew you two loved each other!”

“Fuckin’ sick, bro. And not the good sick, like for real, sick. Uhn,” Jerry blurted out.

“Oh my gawd, Jerry! You’re such a douche! I swear, every time I think, ‘Ya know, maybe I’ll give Jerry a chance,’ you go and blow it. Every! Time!” Tina clapped in his face and stormed off.

“Wait? What? Where are you going?” Jerry gave chase, his opportunity slipping away again.

“Oh come on, you’re not gonna finish the game?” Trevor called out. “You’ve got one cup left.”

“Don’t matter, we already won,” Darrell said and picked up the ball. He casually tossed a shot with Sharron still pulled tight against his hip—

Nothin’ but beer.