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THE REAPERS AFTER DARK

M ay 12th, Wednesday, 1:43 a.m.

THE SIX DICKS WITH STICKS

HAYES: Ful, where’d you go?

GAGE: I think I saw him leave a while ago.

KIT: What? He didn’t even say goodbye!

GAGE: With Shiloh.

HAYES: Oh.

CASEN: Oh.

brISTOL: Oh.

KIT: HOLY SHIT. Is it happening? Is it finally happening?

GAGE: Uh, hate to break it to you, dude, but Fulton already lost his virginity.

KIT: WITHOUT ME??

HAYES: Ew.

KIT: Not like that, you perv. He didn’t even think to tell me. ME! His sex guru. I showed him everything he needs to know !

HAYES: You showed him?!

KIT: Fulton, if you’re reading this, I’m heartbroken. I thought we had something special. I can’t believe you told Gage before you told me. I feel so betrayed. I’ll remember this for the rest of my life.

brISTOL: Congrats, Ful. I think. Sounds kind of weird over text.

CASEN: Yeah, ditto. We never thought this day would come. Or you would come. LMAO.

GAGE: I can’t believe he’s having wall-banging sex right now and I’m not.

HAYES: I bought you assholes eight large pizzas. EIGHT. And this is how you repay me?

brISTOL: Sorry, H. Some of us don’t know how to set our priorities straight.

GAGE: Oh, I know you’re not talking, Mr. I-Always-Have-Golf-Ball-Sized-Hickeys-On-My-Neck.

brISTOL: Hey! At least I don’t leave my cum rags everywhere.

GAGE: Gasp. You know laundry isn’t my strong suit!

CASEN: Shit. I think we’re blowing up Fulton’s phone.

KIT: Ooh, I hope he has the volume turned up. That’s what you get, you ungrateful ass munch.