George pushes the bags around. Hector’s found a can of WD40 and is using it to loosen up his chain.

Andy looks at his brother’s back, nudges Paul with his elbow.

Paul gives him a shove.

– Knock it off, fag.

Andy rolls his eyes, nudges him again.

Paul raises a hand to give him a slap.

– What did I just fucking?

He sees the bag of crank Andy is holding behind his back.

George closes the fridge and turns.

– That shit’s more trouble than it’s worth. I told you that story about that guy.

He has told them the story. They’ve all heard the story from last summer when he was making pill runs for aunt Amy.

He was dropping a vial of ludes with a guy who needed them to come down. A crankhead who’d been binging for like a week. George went in the guy’s apartment and the guy wouldn’t let him go.

George was still freaked hours later when he told them the story.

The guy just kept fucking talking shit and spazzing out and making me play Monopoly. Wouldn’t let me be the dog like I always am, didn’t want to be the dog himself, he was the fucking racecar, kept going Zoomzoomzoom, but I couldn’t be the dog. Just played and played and kept talking about nothing, just spewing shit and just when it seemed like he was winding down I’d make a move toward the door and the guy would do another couple lines and start jumping around and get pissed if I tried to leave the kitchen. Guy finally went bankrupt and started crying and saying that he lost everything and he was gonna kill himself and went to the closet to get a gun he said he had and I shoved the guy in the closet and slammed the door and ran the fuck out of the place. Told aunt Amy that’s it, man, no more fucking crankheads. Rather drop a bag of bennies at a biker party than do another lude run for a crankhead.