Pour Some Sugar
Silent Bob watched as the tiny white crystals disappeared into Jay's mouth in a dazzling waterfall.
Jay kicked Bob under the table. "You're keepin' track, right? I'm gonna break my old fuckin' record, I know it!"
The record Jay spoke of was ten sugar packets in a row. He was determined to go for at least twelve.
"What number am I at? And don't hold up no fuckin' fingers, you fuckin' don't-talk-because-you-don't-want-to motherfucker, I wanna hear the numbers."
"Seven," Bob said tiredly.
"Fuckin' A!" Jay grabbed another packet of sugar and ripped it open. He tilted his head back and the sugar drizzled into his mouth.
Silent Bob studied the sparkling of the sugar and imagined Jay, in another time, another place, being surrounded by shimmering white. Onstage, a rock star, his long hair covering his face as he sang his heart out. Bob blinked and there was Jay, tearing open another packet of sugar and emptying its contents into his mouth.
Bob went back to the rock star fantasy, and started to hum Def Leppard's "Pour Some Sugar On Me" while he watched Jay plow through the packets of sugar.
"What the fuck are you doin'?" Jay demanded. "Keep fuckin' count of the fuckin' packets, don't hum a goddamn song!"
Bob frowned and glared at Jay. He held up nine fingers at him.
"What'd I tell you about those fingers, bitch?"
Silent Bob showed Jay just one finger in response.