• There he was.
    The product of underage drinking and marijuana-induced paranoia lay in a smelly old heap at the feet of two cowering teenagers.
    The scene was shrouded in the darkness of night, hidden from the eyes of passerby with a large tree and bushes that surrounded the three.
    The shorter, scrawnier boy took a few shaky steps back, his head shifting back and forth slowly, his eyes wide upon in disbelief. He pulled bony, pale fingers through jet black hair, his glasses shaking as the rest of his body did.
    "Oh, crap, man. Oh God. Oh Jesus christ, we're dead."
    As he backed up, broken pieces of glass cracked underneath his spotless leather loafers.
    "Don't say that, dude. Do not say that. We-We're going to be just fine."
    "We? We? Don't even involve me in this, you dou-you jerkwad! It's your fault I even got into this mess!"
    The boy had stopped walking backwards. His hand occupied itself by fidgeting with the silver watch on the opposite arm.
    "Calm the hell down, Jacob. Everything is going to be fine if we just...hide it."
    "Hide it? Are you mad, Michael? How are we supposed to do that?"
    "I don't know..dig a hole in the ground or something?"
    "Oh, yeah. That isn't obvious. Upturned soil? We're in a park! Dogs will sniff it out."
    Jacob pushed up his glasses, returning immediately afterwards to fidgeting with the watch.
    Michael leaned against the tree under the protection of its shadows, eyeing the broken glass shards.
    "What about a wood chipper or something? Dump the remains in the river."
    "The noise, you idiot. I don't even know why I'm helping you with this. You got yourself into this mess."
    "Come on, Jake. Please? I don't know what to do."
    "What you need to do is turn yourself in. It's the right thing to do."
    "Hell no, man! Are you nuts? Turn myself in stoned? That's like begging for a soap incident in prison."
    At this, Jacob couldn't help but give a smirk to the other boy.
    "No dude there in their right mind would make your nasty self his..prostitute."
    An ease settled between the two for a second, before Jacob's initial worry returned, presenting itself in a nervous smile and a twiddle of his thumbs.
    "I-I guess your b-b-best bet would be to pull a Tony Soprano."
    "A what?"
    "Y'never watched the Sopranos? Tie a couple cinder blocks to its legs, throw it into the water of the river, problem solved. No one will miss him."
    The larger boy, Michael, scratched the back of his greasy head. His brown eyes were still locked upon the bloody glass shards.
    "It's scary how you came up with that," he mumbled, "But I guess we don't have any more ideas. How do we get this stuff?"
    "I suppose we'll go back to my place."
    The two looked back at the glass and its victim under the tree. As the two started down the sidewalk, the bright gleam of a police car's lamp fell upon Jacob.
    Suddenly, Michael realized what time it was as he glanced at his watch one last time before he lost consciousness: 12:02 AM.