Another exercise, 1/2 an hour

Jason looked away from the computer monitor and out the window. He was thirsty.

The hallway down to John's room was narrow and long, and often Jason would announce his arrival way in advance as he left his room: "Hey John! Want to go out for a beer?"

John looked up from his book and eyed the stack of papers he had to grade for tomorrow. He had left them alone all weekend, not out of laziness, but simply because he had so many other piles keeping him busy. There was Shakespeare and Film, American Film Genres, and, possibly the worst, the Musicals and Comedies. Not that he disliked the students--outside of class, they could easily be a fun group, great for hanging out and watching the game, but in class it was all too clear these kids were just looking for an easy "A." The last and lingering pile was for this class.

"Yeah, let's do it."
Jason knocked on the only closed door in the apartment, "Jen, let's go."
Jen opened the door: "You know, all our names begin with a J, and I know that, too, but really, we don't have to do this."
"Yes we do, I'm bored."
"Don't you have a website to build?"
"That can wait, but now, beer."
"Well, shit. I can't lie, I want nothing more to do with this junk."

As Jen collected her jacket and keys, she had to dance around the scattered papers and dirty laundry.

John leaned on the doorway, "The only girl in this house, and you're a pig."
"Oink fucking oink."

Jen hardly had time to think, which was unfortunate, since she tried to juggle writing her novel with working at a law firm as a legal assistant. The papers on the floor were "drafts" and they were as scattered as her unfinished story, yet it didn't seem to bother her; there was always some kernel of a direction she seemed to chew on.

Jason had been playing counter-strike for five hours straight, and he was thirsty. The three apartment-mates huddled out in their winter jackets and locked the door behind them.

Across the street, there was an Irish pub that attracted a crew of drinkers as diverse as the public schools in the neighborhood. A gray haired woman kept things in order as the lady in charge, and a pretty young blond served drinks. Most of the patrons were over 40, Puerto Rican, Dominican, Irish, Italian, Greek, and tired after a day of bullshit jobs and aching prides.

This was the scene our three friends walked into--a latin chick, and two korean dudes, after having graduated from college in the spring, shared an apartment and this pub was their hang out spot, every Sunday night.

"Hey Anne, how are ya?"
"I'm good Jason, you kids grabbing a booth?"
"Yeah, can you give each of us a heini?"
"Sure Jason, be right with you."

The pretty blond swung the top half her body like a blade down under the counter where she'd open the fridge to find three cold green bottles for the kids. She held all three in one hand and three coasters in the other. Jason always stared at how her skinny fingers could manage the most impossible orders.