The mildew sparkled on the lawn when the boys slid down the hill for the evening’s last drunken act. Then one of them set his pants on fire.

He says the kids are playing in the sandbox. And that makes everyone laugh. Because no one at the party has kids. And there’s no more vodka.

He wants to be popular but he’s the kind who will eat all the cookies at your kid’s party and not tell you so that’s so not going to happen.

The news hits him with the force of a cannon ball. He stands there lost, wondering how he’ll live now. Without the neighborhood strip joint.

The sand is hot. Jones runs as fast as he can to get into the water. And when he does the water is freezing. That’s so like life, he thinks.