This beer is starting to feel tasteless in my mouth. I take another sip, swish it around my mouth before swallowing, but it's no use. It's as if my tongue wilted. Delilah chuckles, spilling a bit of her rum. She's not a beer person.

"The hell you doing, man?"

"I think I had enough of this trash." I say, emptying my bottle, sticking my tongue out to catch the last few drops.

"Bullshit, Cal. You still have a lot of that trash in here." She says, and picks another beer from the cooler, which she throws my way, but she's so wasted that she misses me completely, and I'm so wasted that, as I fumble to catch it, I lose balance and fall off my chair. Delilah laughs out of control and I laugh too, even if the world sways. Her laugh is hilarious and contagious. It takes us a long while to settle down again, and suddenly the sounds of the night surround us. The rustle of the wind through the leaves is kind of hypnotic, so we keep our silence for a while and enjoy it, as the very simple people we are.

I roll on my back and look up at the few stars that shine through the trees over our heads. We're sitting in Delilah's backyard after grilling some hamburgers for dinner. I like a lot the way the whole sky seems to be dancing for me, even though it makes my stomach stir and knot up. I try closing my eyes to calm down, but the whole world spins off its edge.

"Who was the fuckin' idiot who thought it'd be a good idea to give dizziness to alcohol?"

"The fuck you asking, Caleb?"

"I wanna ram the bitch with my goddamned car."

"Yeah. There are some people quite worthy of a car accident." She pours more rum on her glass. "Like that Wellington guy who beats his children with a leash."

"The fucking bastard..." I say, sitting up on the grass and twisting my new beer open. That guy makes me forget my queasy stomach. "Have seen the marks on the little kid. What's her name again?"

"Sheila."

"Yeah, that's the name." I take a long swig, mostly to put off the raging fire in my heart. That Wellington bitch certainly needs a good car ramming. I'd love to see how his brain looks against my bumper.

"And that bitch at the gas station." Says Delilah, all anger now which she fuels with rum. "That Amber hoe, you know her?"

"That ginger chick? The one with the mean Scottish accent?"

"Yeah, that one." She's now talking through gritted teeth. I don't know what happened between Delilah and Amber, but I can tell there's a lot of bad blood there. "I'd run her over, then backwards, then once again just for good measure."

"Whoa, that's some hatred you have there, lady." I say lifting up my bottle as if toasting. She lifts her glass and clinks with me. "Okay, the Amber bitch goes to the list."

"So there's a list now?" She says, laughing again now.

"Sure, why not?" I say, feeling the mood lifting again. "We need to keep track of all the bastards we're going to ram out of this fucking world."

"Huh. That's gonna be one long-ass list, Caleb."

"We'll be heroes, Dee." She laughs at this, taking another sip. "Unorthodox heroes, but we'll make this a better world."

"And this is how legends are born."

"All we need is fuel for the car, fuel for us, and our good old Impala."

And we spend the night like that: drinking, laughing, and making our list longer.