Excerpt: Standard Brotocol

Chapter 6

“Bro, I really can’t thank you enough,” Rob had repeated for the third of forth time since Lewis had begun driving. “You’re like, so fucking cool,” Rob was a loud drunk, “And like, fucking considerate!” He was a talkative drunk. “Bro, if it was anybody else, they’d have been like ‘No way dude, you gotta get your own way’, but not you man,” Lewis was taking deep breaths. Thinking nice thoughts. “You were like ‘Yeah bro, I’ll haul your poor ass around, cause I’m a generous fucking dude.’”
“It’s nothing, man, really,” Lewis shook his hand, gesturing at him to lower his voice. He reached for the radio and turned it on to his go-to station for popular music from the past twenty years, and omitted current top 40 hits and DJs altogether. It provided, if little else, background music, and a reason for inebriated passengers to not talk.
“Shit dude, it’s fuckin’…” Rob yelled and trailed off, trying to think of the artist of the current song.
“Fastball,” Lewis told him.
“Shit yeah!” Rob exclaimed. “Man, I listened to this song all fuckin’ summer back in like, junior high!”
“Yes,” Lewis spoke slowly, condescendingly, “I too enjoyed ‘The Way’. It made me long to experience the unbridled freedom of traveling sans destination. To relinquish one’s own personal responsibility in favor of the open road.”
“No, dude,” Rob shook his head, “That song was about two old people who died.”
“No, it’s about taking chances. ‘An exit to eternal summer slacking’? They’re on summer vacation, but instead of slacking, they’re going on a road trip,” Lewis explained matter-of-factly. “’But where were they going without ever knowing the way?’ They didn’t know the way because they didn’t know where they were going. They were just… going.”
“Fuck no, dude!” Rob yelled, angrily, significantly more angry than somebody should be about a song. “There’s more to the song than just the first four lines of it. First off, the ‘eternal summer slacking’ was like, a metaphor for their marriage. They were middle-aged, thus ‘summer’, but they weren’t really that into their marriage, they were both ‘slacking’, so this trip was an ‘exit’ to it.”
“How do you know they were middle-aged?” Lewis glanced at him briefly before turning back to the road, but also turned down the radio’s volume.
“The song says they had kids. And the kids had to be old enough to fend for themselves, because no parent would leave fuckin’ toddlers home alone. ‘And when the car broke down they started walking.’ That part is literal. But then in the chorus, ‘And it’s always summer, they’ll never get cold. They’ll never get hungry. They’ll never get old and gray.’ They fuckin’ died, dude. They fuckin’ died in the desert, still in their prime. ‘They won’t make it home. They really don’t care. They wanted the highway. They’re happy they’re there today.’ Their ordeal brought them together, and strengthened their love, but it eventually killed em, bro.”
“I see what you mean,” Lewis gave a satisfied nod. “That’s very observant. Thank you for ruining the song for me.”
“Fuck yeah, I’m takin’ off my shirt,” Rob whooped.