The Intro of My Dystopian Novel That Takes Place Inside Bud Light's Whatever, Usa
Working Title: "Lord Of Bud Lights"
- •It's been ten days without an adult in sight. I mean, all the characters are 26 years old, but I'm talking, like, adults adults.
- •Steven wakes up, rubs his eyes, looks out on a tattered dance floor. The truest among his kind are still partying.
- •The party has become some sort of masked bacchanal- what has always been a no-rules throwdown has suddenly become governed by even fewer rules.
- •Shaggy was supposed to perform a private concert for the citizens of Whatever, USA. Where has Shaggy gone, Steven wonders?
- •The Mayor of Whatever floats past Steven's house on his daily route. "Stay up for whatever!" the Mayor shouts. Once out of Steven's earshot, the Mayor sobs.
- •It's just one more day, Steven thinks as he grits his teeth, the government-issued molly still dried and caked at the edges of his lips.
- •But he knew it was indefinite. He knew he was stuck in a nonstop loop. And he knew, somehow, that Shaggy was dead, his head on a pike.
- •He'd need to grind with someone. He'd need to grind with anyone. He'd need to repopulate the human race through grinding.
- •Steven so desperately wished that he'd said no. That he'd said he was NOT up for whatever. That he'd stayed home with his mother and simply WATCHED the Up For Whatever Festival on television, like all other Americans.
- •But this was March, and it was Madness. Steven pulled on his cleanest wool bro-tank, courtesy of the Mayor, and ventured onto his lawn. Up for whatever? No. Down with the sickness.