Ghoul
“The tall grass swished against their blue jeans. ”The weatherman on Channel Eight was calling for it tonight." “Quit fucking whining,” Ronny Nace said. “Christ, you're like a little girl, man.”
“They said there was a severe thunderstorm warning until six in the morning. Gonna rain buckets.”
“So? A little rain never hurt nobody.”
“We could catch pneumonia,” Steve said. “I don't want to be sick in the summer.”
“Shut up.”
“Or maybe even a tornado could blow through. Wouldn't want to be out here if that happened.”
“If you don't shut the fuck up,” Ronny warned, “I'll shut you up for good.”
Steve's open mouth snapped shut. He knew better than to cross his friend.
“We finally got a chance to get even with those shitheads,” Ronny said, “and you want to cancel all because of the weather.”
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