Winging It

Chapter Two

*Dan POV*

They treat me like a child. I know they are joking, but it gets to me sometimes, ya' know. Like "did you bring the kool-aid?" Im not 5. I don't want to drink little kid drinks. I am more responsible than all of them! Ugh, I'll just have a few beers and they can deal.

*** (9 beers and 12 shots later)

Ok wow I'm zazzed. I can't even think properly and I feel sweat In my palms, but in a good way and I'm having a great time. Everyone looks lovely and I have no rules. Nobody can stop me. Nobody can stop me. An incredible idea popped into my head as the song "chandelier" came on. I eye around the room to see a little chandelier hanging from the ceiling. Perfect.

Shakily, I grab a chair with my free hand (the other occupied with a red solo cup filled with whatever I could pour in it) and bring it right under the light fixture. This is the best idea I have haf in a long time.

As I climb up onto the chair and try to steady my self -but doing poorly- I hear my name being shouted for from another room, but I choose to ignore it. As I finally steady myself on the chair, I see a worryful Phil walk in with a drunken Pj beside him. I'm running out of time. Quickly, but safel- lol jk who needs safety, I reach up and grab the chandelier, "Dan!" I hear Phil call "you are being ridiculous, a-are you drunk??" Haha yea. Ignoring the pleas, I tighten my grip on the glass and metal of the light and kick the chair away, naturally squinting my face in fear.. A few seconds later, I unsquint my face and realize I'm up in the air and I am swinging from the chandelier!! I di-

all I can hear is a crack go through the ceiling, and it splitting. I see it all in slow motion as everything falls and the light and bits of ceiling hit the floor with me. I'm too afraid to look up at everybody and I just bow my head in shame. This might have not been the best idea..

***
"Daniel! I told you, I warned you! Why didn't you listen! Maybe you should have just drank kool-aid" Phil very father like, scolded me. And it hurt, "Do you know how much money it's going to cost?? And they are going to have to know your age, and then guess what!?" He asks, expecting an answer. "What." I mumble under my breath. "JAIL! Jail is going to happen!"

I roll my eyes. He tries to act like he owns me or something like he can tell me what to do, and it's just not his buisness, but he must think otherwise because he kept yelling at me, "Don't you roll your eyes. You know I'm right." He is right. Always is. Stupid Phil. I roll my eyes again. He doesn't say anything else (Thank God) and just chuckles under his breath.