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t’s a Tuesday night in New York—the open signs are off—all the restaurants are closed except for Jack’s Pizza Shack. On a normal Tuesday night, Jack’s would be closed, but tonight the lights are on, and the line of customers in the parking lot is longer than it was for free beer on women’s night—last New Year’s Eve.

       Brad—an average-looking guy in his early 20s who knows how to keep control of anything—from a card game to an organized smoker’s choice award offering top-of-the-line organic weed in a wide selection. He is standing at the front door of Jack’s Pizza Shack, collecting a cover charge from anyone entering the building. The cover charge covers all beer costs and video game tournament fees.

     Frank—is better looking than Brad but close to the same age. He is the type of guy that most guys want to be, but every girl wants to fuck. “How close are we?” Asks Frank in a casual voice as he stands next to Brad.

     “Well, from what I have here in the box, we are about $2000 over what it would cost us to get the equipment back for the restaurant,” says Brad as he flips through the cash faster than an ATM.

     “Everything?” Asks Frank.

     “Yep, everything!” says Brad.

     “Well, we better keep going because we need to have some saved next year for the Super Bowl,” says Frank, “Bob never wins when he bets.”

     A male customer leaving the building walks past Frank and Brad. Brad holds up the customer count sheet and erases one from the male category on the overall count. “Next,” shouts Brad.

     An attractive female walks through the entrance. She is of perfect height and size. Brad lifts the rope and pulls out his calculator to total up the male-to-female ratio at Jack’s.

     “Looking good?” Asks Frank.

     Brad hits the enter button on his calculator and laughs, “Oh, yea.”

     Frank walks into the dining area of Jack’s, where he sees tables set up to play beer pong and four large-screen TVs spread across the walls for a video game tournament. The TVs were loaned to him by his friend Larry at Express Media. The cover price might seem high to some people outside the building, but once they enter, it looks like they paid for the golden ticket.

     There are a few other precautions that Frank takes upon himself to make it a fun night for everyone: 1) Vomit Bags – One free with every cover charge. Thanks to Frank’s friend Cassie who has access to all products at an independent airline named Fly-Sky—it’s on the verge of bankruptcy (dumb ass name, go figure). 2) Security – A private security firm owned by Frank’s 2nd cousin through a marriage (Not sure how that works, but Frank will hook them up with drunk school coeds when the party is over). 

     As Frank mingles through the party-goers: some drunk, some half-dressed, some locked with their eyes on the TV screens, some having sex, and some passed out. He sees Amy, one of his fellow Jack’s Pizza Shack workers, and walks over to her.

     “Frank, I believe this is the best idea you’ve ever had,” says Amy, who is smashed drunk with a slur in her voice.

     “It only gets better,” Frank laughs as he looks around the room and notices Rhonda looking over at him. He glances to the right and left, smiles, and points to himself. She shakes her head no and points to Amy. Frank points to Amy, and Rhonda nods her head yes. 

     “Why don’t yoou… and mee… take a break… and go to the storage rooom… Frank?” Amy drunkenly slurs.

     “Amy, you’re already taken,” says Frank as he looks directly into her eyes and leads them to see Rhonda on the other side of the room.

     Rhonda motions for Amy to come to her—raises the front of her shirt, showing her C-size tits. Amy opens her eyes wide to see Rhonda, and Rhonda blows her a kiss. “Ooohhh,” says Amy.

     “Drunk or not, if you don’t fuck her, I will,” says Frank to Amy. He smacks her on the ass and sends her to Rhonda.

NSFW: yes

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