Randy pulled the stolen bottle out of his pocket, took a good sip of the brown liquid and made a frown.

Bobby grabbed the bottle. -Good job, Randy! Let’s go!

They drove into town, and down the main street, which was in fact the only street in their town. Harry the police officer was watching them from a parking lot. The three boys stared back at him.

-Man, how I hate him, Randy said.

-Yeah, man. Bill said from the back seat. -The other day he was asking me all kinds of questions. He wouldn’t let me go. And I hadn’t done shit all day!

When they came to the end of the street, they turned around. Then they drove back.

-Do ever get, like tired of this? Randy said after a while.

-Tired of what?

-Driving up and down the street?

-I dunno…? What else could we do?

Silence.

-Give me the bottle, asshole!

Billy took another sip.

The car stopped. Billy fell forward, spilling whiskey all over his shirt. -What the fuck, man…

The two other said nothing, just stared up in the sky.

An eye was staring down at them…