“George, I don’t know how much more of this I can take.” I popped the cap off my third beer.

“Well, Stacey certainly couldn’t take much at all, " George muttered.

“What do you mean?”

“God, Jan, don’t you remember? Sleeping pill overdose yesterday.”

“Scheiße.” I took a long swig. “I was hoping I’d have a shot at hitting that.”

George’s face became full of disdain. “Seriously? She was so far gone; drugged-out. That’s not consensual, man.”

“So vat?” I snapped. “We’re all far gone.” After a couple moments of bitter silence, I added, “vy don’t du just goen sie home?”

“Are you kidding? There’s no way I’d get through Parkfield. Still jammed full of crashed cars. Probably never get cleared.”

“… Fick. Zat’s right. You nefer mind, forget I said zat.”

“It’s okay.”

They both took long quaffs.

After another sullen silence, I brightly said, “Ick gettink shleepy.”

George snorted. “You’re just getting drunk. Big difference.”

" Wohl… na ja. Prost!"

“I’ll drink to that. Prost!” George laughed.