2hr 05 mins into the video
Halfway through our next a cappella session, I apparently had a genius idea. Spoiler alert, it was a fucking stupid idea that had me gripping the counter as I watched on the screen as I ran around the bar and picked up one of the fans that was plugged in behind it. Then I carried it over to where we were, taking five minutes to get it into the socket.
“Whatcha doing?” Sadie slurred, closing one eye as she swayed.
“I’m making this shit lit!”
“We’re starting a fire?” she screeched, looking horrified.
Glaring over at her—and missing her by about four feet as I looked to her left—I turned it on and put my face close to it.
And then I started singing into the fan in a deep voice, followed by a high pitched one.
Nodding excitedly, Beau ran to get one of the other fans from behind the bar (it got hot as Satan’s balls behind there when the bar was packed, so we had five of them available) and did the same thing.
So, for ten minutes, we watched as Beau and I sang into our fans, the awful singing made even worse by the fan as Sadie continued to act like she was at a heavy metal concert, bouncing and headbanging around the place as she tried to sing along with us. The words were mostly the right ones, but when we got it wrong, Christ did we get it wrong.
When it finally stopped, the loudest and filthiest burp filled the silence as we all stood with our arms in the air like we were letting the cheers of an audience wash over our excellence. Sadie and I looked over at Beau—who wouldn’t be caught dead burping if she was sober—and without even batting an eyelid yelled, “Nine point five.”
“You know,” Sadie said, “I’ve never burped in my life. I was born without the burping organ.”
Beau and I looked at each other speechless, and then back at her. “For reals? Like never?”
“Not even as a baby. Mum used to spend hours trying, but all I’d do is a frog gurgle thing. Sucks balls because I want to burp words like Snuffleupakus and Marmite.”
Both of us got out of our seats and crowded around Sadie like she’d told us the end of her life was nigh.
“We’ll get you through this,” Beau whimpered, pulling Sadie’s face into her boobs.
“We’ll find the best doctor in the world that can fix it. As God is my witness, you’ll get your burping organ,” I promised, rocking her back and forth, taking Beau with us.
After a long moment, we all stopped, and the shudders that followed would have been hilarious if it wasn’t me on the screen.
“I think I’ve got that movement puking thing,” Beau rasped, picking up the melted dregs of one of the margaritas and downing it.
“I think I’m car sick,” Sadie mumbled, fanning her face.
Not caring whose glass was whose, we all downed what we could find in the glasses we picked up—something that made me gag watching it—and then decided ice-cold versions of what we’d just drank would make us feel better.“Please make it stop,” Beau whined as we all sank down behind the bar.
“Do you remember any of that?” I hissed at them.
Looking back at me blankly, Sadie just shook her head and pulled her t-shirt over her face.
“There’s another three hours of it,” Tate shouted out, and for the millionth time since I’d been born, I wondered what life on an island would be like. “However, we don’t want to take up even more of your night than we already have—”
“How fucking charitable,” Sadie mumbled from where she was hiding in her boobs.
“—so we’ll set up a night to watch the next episode later and let you know what date we decide on,” the big fat shit finished.
“My brother’s an asshole.” It didn’t really need to be said, but I did it anyway.
“Excuse me, ladies,” Elijah’s deep voice sounded above our heads. “Can we get some drinks here, please?”
“No speakee English,” Sadie’s muffled voice called. “Eeest ein hardenburger ji ar fun.”
I looked up and saw Elijah looking amused. “What language was that, babe?”
“No speakee English,” she repeated.
“Sadie,” he called, but there was no getting her out of her hiding place.
“No Sadie. In far murdan gerber tan pon.”
“Do you need a tampon?” I whispered, wondering why she’d announce it.
Her head shot up out of her cleavage as she glared at me. “No, I don’t need a flipping tampon, thank you very much. Why?”
“Um, babe, you said murdan gerber tan pon,” Elijah told her. “Sounds like you needed one.”
Shooting up behind the bar, she flipped her blonde hair over her shoulders and tilted her chin up. “No, so there. Who wants a drink?”
Peeking over the counter, I watched as the crowd of patrons all raised their hands and winced. Shit, no getting away from it then.