Stuck With the Miscreants

Two Wheels on The Track, Goin' Til the End, then Hell and Back

 Rupturing into the local graveyard in an almighty chaotic, fiery rage whilst riding on your chosen puny chariot was the rush that you were missing. Although, you quickly changed your mind after hitting the gross wet soil of the graveyard, you swore your body hit the ground so hard that you would have died if the wet soil didn't cushion your form, somewhat. You staggered to your feet, wavering your hands around to just hold onto something, anything would really satisfy your strange urge. This anything ended up being a tombstone, but you sadly didn't realize until you scared yourself straight by accidentally grabbing a cold tombstone. It's scary to wonder about the buried person under this name marker, were they even a person anymore, or just a husk of what they used to be?

Your little fear mantra was perfectly broken by a ruffled angered sigh, no other than the grumpy Irishman. But to be honest you'd be pretty jizzed if you crashed into a cemetery unexpectedly, oh wait you did. Ah yes, the irony of horrible things happening to you just because. It was almost like these things just happened to drive the plot along in your sad pathetic life. But as much as you wanted to mope about your terrible predicament, there were better things to worry about, shocking I know.

You tumbled over on your stomach, slowly pushing yourself upwards with your scuffed, dirty palms. The bicycle you rode here on was broken beyond repair, a bent wheel and a twisted, crooked frame, placed sadly in the corner recalling its glory days until you all literally destroyed it. You heard shuffling beside you, glancing over you could observe that it was Vinnie, her previously beautiful ball gown was now tattered and ripped at the seams.

Watching her stumble to her feet gave you some sort of sympathy for her, seeing as she was falling over from how drunk she was. It was surprising to see the drunkard stand up so easily with no problems at all, whilst Vinnie was basically wasted.

"Finally, I can take this stupid shit off," Stone grasped his black and white tuxedo ripping it off his form dramatically revealing his regular outfit.

"Whew, that was a rush!" Skipp would step up dizzily stumbling around, gripping his head and fixing his winter hat, shuffling the little pom pom at the top.

Vinnie was still rolling around in the dirt, stopping herself at Stone's feet and face planting into the dirt. He'd groan loudly at this, grasping the back collar of her now tattered dress, slowly trying to place her on her feet only for her to fall over with a goofy smile plastered on her face.

"Do I really have to carry you?" Stone asked, glaring down at Vinnie already done with the whole situation itself.

"Mm, tasty shoes," Vinnie would begin to slobber and chew on his shoes like some teething dog.

"Alright," He'd frown, sighing dreadfully and picking the girl up by her underarms, tossing her over his skinny frame.

Before you got up yourself you were yanked up by the back of your shirt's collar, staggering to find something to hold onto, only you accidentally bumped into Skipp.

"So uh, graveyard huh?" Skipp would turn to you, trying to make some small talk whilst he shifted the scarf around his neck awkwardly. You took in the landscape you were definitely in a cemetery, a dreary one at that, from what you could observe the trees were barren and the land basically looked dead. All it was missing was scattered skeletons for the whole spooky vibe, but those skeletons were in the ground, tucked safely into their coffins.

"Stooone, you got anything to drink?" Vinnie slurred out, her head slumped onto Stone's shoulder.

"Yeah whatever, here," He'd grip a whiskey bottle out of his trench coat, handing it over to Vinnie. It made you wonder where he had the room for all the bottles.