I'm guessing that none of you fucks guessed any of that though, so you're pretty much failing right now.
The bottle, it's clear. The liquid looks like piss. Nice, frothy piss on top. It doesn't taste much better, but I'm probably just not used to this sort of thing.
That's right, kids. Amanda's never actually had more than a couple of sips of alcohol before.
So me, I'm feeling a little dizzy, a little sick, and I'm staring at this bottle. I'm writing about this bottle, half full of beer. The last one that was in the fridge. My parents probably won't give a shit tomorrow.
Where did the beer go? they'll ask. Not me, but eachother.
Dad must have drunk it, they'll say.
And that will be that.
Me, I'm staring at the bottle. Every time I take a sip, it froths up again, and I've decided that there is nothing on this planet more disgusting than frothy piss colored beverages.
So I do the only thing that makes any sense.
I drink the rest of it all at once.