When he arrived at the theatre, he pulled into an empty parking space and got out of the car. He didn't make it inside, though. There, in the parking lot, was Mikey, passed out on the pavement. There was a fresh pool of vomit near his face, and Jon could smell the alcohol all over him (well, when it wasn't overpowered by the sick-up smell).
As much as he hated to see his little brother in such a state, he felt a sense of relief that he'd have something to do besides confronting his mom.
"Ewwwww," he cried, slowly approaching the passed out kid, "That is so totally gross." He made sure to keep his distance, hearing the slow click of his heels as he walked closer and closer.
"Hey mister," he tried, soliciting only a grunt from the prone body. He tried again, "Hey mister drunk guy!" he said a little louder.
Mikey's eyes opened, staring, bloodshot, at Jon.
"Hey Jon, I mean Shharah," he burped, "I don't feel so good."
"Gross!" Jon stepped back at the burp. He looked around to see if there was someone he could pawn the boy off on, knowing that's what Sarah would do. Seeing nobody (to his relief) he decided to spend a moment more there. He took out his pink cell and called him a cab.
Mikey sat up and leaned against the car behind him. "The world keeps moving," he mumbled, "and those bitches didn't like me."
Jon was shocked to hear that word from Mikey's mouth, but knew it was just the character he was playing. When the shock wore off he felt a sense of pride that Mikey was staying with the game, even in this state. He felt inspired. If Mikey could be such a brave little soldier, what was his problem? Why was he so afraid to get himself to do what he needed to do?
"Listen mister," Jon crossed his arms and jutted his hip out to one side. He could feel the anger rising up in him again. "I don't have time to hang out with your drunk ass. I called you a taxi, and you'd better take it if you know what's good for you. You are so totally yuck!"
He spun on his left heel and marched straight for the doors to the theatre, in the mood for a fight.
Inside...
