brad

Long Beach california 1990, mid june

Brad and you were 21 broke, dumb, but the worlds best couple. brad was a surfer/stoner. he always wore the same pair of checkered vans, backwards padres cap, baggy jorts, no shirt. he was tall and lanky, his brownish blonde hair shaved back into a buzz cut, and brown eyes that sparkled.

at 7 he got up. he put on a bon jovi tape and made breakfast- which consisted of toast and a pepsi. after that he grabbed his longboard and skated to the record store where you and bud worked. he just liked harassing you all at work.

the bell on the door jingled at his entry "hey mothafuckas" he said loudly

"dickface put a shirt on" bud said without even looking up.

"and get a tan line? hell no" he went behind the counter where yall stood and propped his board against the wall

he tugged at your braid "babayyy"

"brad go away. go listen to the new billy idol record." he groaned and sat down next to bud completely ignoring you

"hey brad don’t come crying to me." bud said to him.