𝐰𝐞 𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐝𝐨 𝐝𝐮𝐦𝐛 𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐭
🥂🥂🥂
When she gets the call from her "brother", Kirsten practically jumps for joy at the opportunity to go to Vegas with her best friends for his bachelor party. She lives for a party, especially when it's...
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TW: Police brutality and smoking.
[Like A G6 - Far East Movement] 1:40 ─〇───── 2:13 ⇄ ◃◃ ⅠⅠ ▹▹ ↻
Phil puts some spare change into the payphone, standing beside it. I'm sat beside him, my arm raised as we are both handcuffed to each other, Alan and Stu together. Phil had the dumb decision to call Tracy, to make sure she knows we're alive, although at this point, we have no idea where Doug is or if he's still alive.
"After we take the mug shots," An officer walks around the corner, a large group of children following behind him. "We bring them down here where they wait to be interviewed by the arresting officers. Trust me, kids, you do not wanna be sitting on these benches. We call this place Loserville."
The kids start to laugh, but one girl in particular looks at me, whispering with their friends. "What are you looking at?" I demanded.
"Hey, calm down." Stu raises his eyebrows at me.
One child takes a photo of Alan with his phone, but Alan kicks the phone out of the kid's hand. "See? He has the right idea." I defend Alan.
"Follow me. All right, let's do it. Come on." The officer ushers them away.
"Hello." Phil talks on the phone. "Hey, Tracy! It's Phil. We are at the spa at the hotel." He looks at us, worried. "Of course. Why wouldn't he be?" I shrug my shoulders at him. "Um...We made a deal, no talking to girlfriends or wives. So we're all calling each other's." I squint my face at him, and he knows how stupid that excuse sounds. "Uh, you are not gonna believe this. We got comped an extra night at the hotel. Yeah. The suite is... It's ridiculous. It's out of control. There's, like, room service and a butler. I mean, just the works. We're thinking of spending the night and we're gonna come back in the morning." He bites his nails as Tracy speaks on the other end of the phone. "That's why we're gonna get up early, and we'll be back in plenty of time."
"Wenneck, Dawne, Price, Garner. Room 3." A policeman hollers at us.
"Okay, Trace, I gotta go." Phil finishes on the phone. "We'll talk to you later."
"Come on, chop-chop." The policeman huffs.
We all walk into an interrogation room, with a double sided mirror and two cops sitting on the opposite end of the table. They look up at us, down at a piece of paper, back at us, down at the paper and then back to us, but this time, they look pissed.
"Gentlemen and woman." The man speaks. "We've got some good news, and we've got some bad news. The good news is we found your Mercedes."
"That's great news." Phil smiles
"Amazing." I sigh.
"Yeah, it's over at impound right now." He continues. "We picked it up at 5 a.m. This morning parked in the middle of Las Vegas Boulevard."
