99 Bottles Of Beer

By:  Jessica

 

New Year’s Eve. The first time in years they had decided to just spend it together. No families. No parties. Just the five of them sitting in Justin’s LA home, drinking and talking. Since Lance had gotten back from Russia and Joey had finished his run on Broadway, they had gotten together in small groups, but not as the whole band to just hang out and talk.

 

The evening started out as a little card playing, a little talking, a little MTV watching, and a little beer. But now it was three in the morning and they were drunk and laughing.

 

“You know, some girl actually asked me the words. I wanted to smack her and tell her to read the CD cover, but Kelly was standing right there so I told her, ‘You may hate me.’” Joey took another swig of his seventh beer.

 

“You may hate me? I thought it was ‘shoot me, hate me.’” Chris slurred.

 

Justin laughed overly loud. “Shoot me, hate me! You’re loosing it in your old age, dude. Joe’s right. It’s ‘you may hate me.’”

 

“What do you say, Jace?” Joey asked, passing another beer to Lance.

 

JC giggled then cleared his throat and as soberly as he could said, “Shoot me, hate me. It makes sense.” JC began to sing. “Don wanna be a fo' for you. Just 'nother playa in your game for two. Shoot me, hate me but it ain’t no lie, baby. Bye bye bye!” As JC did the hand motions, he fell over laughing.

 

“You’re such a girl when you’re drunk.” Chris slapped JC’s leg.

 

“Lance, you’ve been quiet. What do you think?” Justin said as he kicked Lance’s foot.

 

“I don’t know.” Lance looked sheepishly down.

 

“What is it, man? You know the words.” Joey elbowed Lance in the ribs.

 

“Well,” Lance let out a little laugh. “I always thought it was ‘you may shoot me.’”

 

JC almost fell off the couch laughing. “And you thought my way was stupid!”

 

“So what is it?” Chris asked, scratching himself.

 

“Do you have the CD here, Ju?” Joey asked.

 

“No man. I don’t even have my album.”

 

“What? You a pop hater?” Chris slapped Justin on the back.

 

“No! I just don’t own them.” Justin started to sound defensive.

 

Softly Lance said, “You know, we could just look it up on the Internet.”

 

“Huh?” JC looked up from the spot he laid on the couch.

 

“You know, all those sites have our words. I’m sure one has the right ones.” Lance kicked Justin’s foot. “Where’s the computer, man?”

 

“Upstairs.” The five guys all raced up the stairs to get to the computer to find out the words to their own song.

 

The End

 

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