On The Bro'd
Every sentence of Jack Kerouac's On The Road, retold for bros.
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150 - Beeramid
My half-finished P90x DVDs sat on the TV. It was October, and I’d have to back to stupid school. Dean had been chilling here, crashed a couple nights in my room, waiting for me; spent afternoons watching baseball with Derek as they pounded down Natty Lights, which were now empty and stacked in a beeramid as tall and amazing as anything the Pharaohs built; and then he had peaced out, like a hot second before I rolled in, never fucking calling, then headed to San Fran. He had his own shit there; Camille had just gotten a place. I was too much of a dumbass to holler at them when I was in Mill City. Now it was too late and I had missed my chance to rock out with Dean.
