I know, I know. It's called creative /non/-ficiton

So this one time I get really drunk with Teddy.

I’m the only one who calls him that anymore.

Teddy and I, we’re walking on the road back towards my apartment. The cars always honk once before driving around us. In the red of their tail-lights, he tells me he loves me. He tells me this when he isn’t drunk, but he tells me more often when he is. But everyone tells everyone else that they love them when they’re drunk. Even my dad would tell me that if we ever drank together. Saw each other.

But Teddy, he really means it. He doesn’t have pets. He lives with me but tells people that we’re roommates. He’s more like my refugee. But I’ve always liked taking care of people.

Having Teddy living with me though, I usually can’t eat. We usually can’t drink like we just did, but we did. It was a big week.

A car honks. I wave for it to go around.

Teddy puts one of his arms around me and lets his weight drop. I carry this guy.

“Do you— can you remember in high school?”

Remember what?

“You’re going to have to go a little deeper than that, Teddy.”

His one eyebrow goes up.

“Oh. Like, do you remember when we would steal car stereos for Brad?”

“Yeah, and he paid us twenty bucks a piece and turned them around for a hundred? Fuck that guy. I remember.”

“Why don’t we do that? Right now? Look, there’s cars.”

“There’s always cars. This is the city. And you’re just drunk.”

“So are you.”

“I know. But I also know we’d get caught. Cars have alarms and shit now. Not like before. Plus how are you going to break the window? You got something to put through it?”

“No.”

“Then forget it. There’s no money in getting caught.”

“I just wanted to help. We don’t have fuck all to buy shit with anymore. And you always get what we do have.”

“Yeah, but we had a good time tonight, right buddy?”

“Yeah.”

“Yeah.”

So I’m at the police station the next morning. I’m being told that Teddy’s bail is two-hundred dollars.

Fuck.