Mischa's POV 06/2008
This night is in hell temperature. I am thinking of getting booze for myself since my co-members in the choir just drink boring water, they're missing all the fun and so am I because I miss my homies so much, some of them started acting like Russians after hooking up with vodka chicks. My Lord, thank you for helping me keep my sacred virginity, HALLELUJAH!
And speaking of vodka, who the fuck came up with the idea to add lemons in it? How is anyone supposed to get drunk with that type of shit? Who do they think they're lying to?
I heard foosteps coming from the next aisle. I thought I was the only person here besides the cashier so it was kind of eerie to me and it's 2 A.M.
"Greetings and salutations!" an elderly voice greeted me from behind.
I turned around to see a guy in his late 30s, wearing a black trench coat and holding a big cup of slurpee, I think it's blueberry flavored.
"Isn't it too late to buy alcohol for a date night with your girlfriend?" he asked me. Isn't he too old for frozen drinks? I can tell that he's not Canadian based on his accent.
"Sir, I'm buying this for my father" I lied, I actually planned on stealing a bottle or two.
"Sir you sound American" I told him. "Yeah? Well, you sound like a euro boy, in a fresher accent" he replied. I ain't no boy.
"I'm from Boston. I was just playing hide and seek and found a way to cross country. I even went to Mexico." he said. Ooh, did he ran away from his wife and eight children?
"There are no seekers young man. I came here in Saskatchewan to help with Uranium's fall fair construction" the old dude added. He probably gets paid for it.
For a second I thought he might be hiding a gun but he's just as lame as everyone else in this town.
