Punk Losers vs The Living Dead

Typical Army Fuck Up

The town of Derry, Maine was small, backwards and a complete bore. Richie was sure of it as he and his gang of loser friends walked down Main Street trying to decide what trouble they were going to get into tonight. The sun was settling itself between the buildings on the outskirts of town making the sky emit a pinkish hue.

"So what's the plan for tonight? Sneaking into that showing of Night of The Living Dead?"

There was a collective groan from his friends.

"Not wild enough." Beverly, the only girl of the group but the toughest by far, explained. A long silver chain swayed off her studded belt lightly tapping her tattered black jeans.

"Got any better ideas, Miss Marsh?"

"Let's party!"

"Oh sure, because we're definitely invited to parties."

Eddie chimed in. He was gravitating towards Richie, like he always did. His small hands tucked into an oversized patched up denim jacket. Richie's eyes flicked down to his best friend, causing his heart to jump into his throat. His teeth found a way to the ring lodged in between the side of his lip. A nervous habit.

"Ben could get us into a party. His football team is always inviting him." Mike offered.

"Wh-where is B-Ben?" Bill inquired.

"Bevvy? I think his lover would have the answer."
A blush slithered up Beverly's neck at Richie's remark.

"We're not dating,Trashmouth. But-"

"But?"

"I happen to know he's at his new job. Orientation day."
She smiled, red curls bouncing in the early summer wind.

"Aw, fuck Ben got a job? What is that? What a sellout." Eddie's brow furrowed.

"Fuckin lame." Rich agreed, shoving the butt of his cigarette into his pocket.

"What time will he get off?"

"Round seven."

Another round of simultaneous groans.

"That's f-fuckin f-for-for-"

"Forever!" Richie bit, "Spit it out, Billiam."

This earned a heavy shove from Stan and a punch in the arm from Eddie.

"It's two hours."

"Well, fuck, what can we do for two whole hours?"

At this point, the crew had walked past all of the main blocks in town. They'd made it all the way to the cemetery that lay just next to the old medical supply place.

"Well we're right by where he works."

"What's he doing?"

"He's working at Uneeda Medical Supply. Packing up and shipping cadavers and shit."

"Spooky."

"Well, shit, what are we gonna do?Hang out in the cemetery for two hours?"

"Good idea, Rich!"
Bev looped her arm around Richie, stealing his pack of cigarettes from his leather jacket. Mike pulled a bottle of booze from his trench coat. His ringed fingers gleaming in the last rays of daylight.

"This should keep us occupied."

"What? In the cemetery. With all the dead people?"

"Aw, scared Eds?"

"Don't call me that, dickhead. I just don't want to be in the next Romero film."

Richie had fallen back behind the group only to snarl with his arms held in front of him like a ghoul in the movie. He snuck up to Eddie grabbing his waist.