The average liquor store, somewhere in America. Shelves stocked with bottles, coolers loaded with cans, overpriced snack foods close to the register and a bored looking lady at the counter. Jackie Peppers walks in. The lady eyes the young man up and down.

Can I see some ID?

Jackie walks past her towards the shelves, as though anything she said meant absolutely nothing. He looks at the bottles with a plain, glum look on his face. Without looking back at the lady, he speaks at her.

Which of these will get me drunkest?

Honey, I need to see some...

It's for work.

What?

Just, huh.

Jackie purses his lips and grabs a random bottle of the shelf. He turns and walks towards the woman.

I need to see some ID before you buy that.

Oh, okay.

Jackie reaches into his front pocket and pulls out an ID card. The camera zooms to show it on the counter. It is Jackie's picture, but the name says "David X. Shaw" and the date of birth says "01/20/1994". The woman furrows her brow and scans the card under a reader. A deep, hearty sound happens.

The reader won't scan it.

Then read it.

I can't.

Jackie looks at the woman intently.

You can't read the fucking card?

Hey!

You're illiterate!

No, I can't verify your card without a scan.

Then you're worthless.

Jackie grabs the bottle of hooch he snagged from the shelf and his fake ID and walks out of the liquor store.

HEY! YOU CAN'T WALK OUT WITH THAT!

Watch me, bitch!


We see Jackie sitting on some train tracks, somewhere remote enough that the only landmark of note are the tracks themselves. His bottle of liquor is half empty in his right hand. His slumped form, braced by his left hand, looks up at the camera, his face deadpan.

So...

Look.

I'm Jackie.

And this is some really good whiskey.

Jackie holds the bottle up, which reads "99 BANANAS", a potent banana liqueur. Oft the bane of slutty college girls who have huge tits but very homely faces, we see it has rendered Jackie Peppers pretty drunk. His youth is helping him metabolize the stuff rather well, but his lack of knowledge of what he's actually doing kind of shows. He knocks back the bottle and finishes the contents.

So, Muddy Waters, you need...

Jackie stops and looks away from the camera. He vomits, a stream of bright yellow liquid shooting from his open jaw and out onto the train tracks itself. Jackie grimmaces, looks at the bottle of banana liqueur, and throws it off into the bushes.

What was I saying?

From off screen, whomever is part of the technical crew speaks.

You said Muddy Waters.

He's a dad.

Seriously.

A fucking dad. Like, I had to go steal that bottle of booze because I can't legally buy it anywhere around here. You, you have a teenage daughter, you're barely thirty, but you're a total dad who peaked at the age of fifteen when he knocked up some chick who became a high school tragedy, the mommy graduate.

We had one of those at my school. Melissa Thomas. That...

Jackie turns and heaves again. He wipes his mouth and looks back at the camera.

Whew. Gonna fuck up my ability to mist.

What about Melissa Thomas?

She gave great head. Felt weird, because she was like, I don't know, three months pregnant at the time, but she still knew how to polish a knob. She's a total slut.

So Muddy Waters is famous for fucking a total slut in High School. That's about it.

Your daughter is better than you.

The greatest thing you ever did, Muddy.

The greatest.

Was knocking up a high school girl.

We hear the sound of a train horn, and Jackie looks to the side. He stands, but immediately stumbles and faceplants onto the gravel below and rolls around into a mud puddle. He looks up at the camera with a blank expression on his face, his eyes glassy, blood trickling from his face where he cut himself on some sharp piece of glass or rock on the ground.

Woah, that was close. Fuck.

Well, this is your promo time, what do you want to do?

I want Taco Bell.