With no particular place to go

The dog days had rolled in again. Summer meant not only the end of keeping a regular schedule but also the damnable job of trying to find work. Instead of putting effort into that however, you, busybee that you are, were sitting in the parking lot of 7/11 drinking a Slurpee that was rapidly melting in the sun. You sat on the curb with your tongue turning blue and weighed your options for the day. Regardless of what decision was actually made there was one thing that you were sure as hell not going to be doing, and that was find a job.

As the straw began making an empty sucking sound in the bottom of the cup you stood up and looked around. Suddenly you remember why you started referring to this place as "Craptown". Well, even in Craptown there had to be something fun to do.