"To the carnival!", I shouted, in my best imitation of an English accent, once we had walked out the door. The quality of the imitation was poor, of course, but no one minded.
"Right-o, old chap!" Charlie returned, with an even hammier accent. Naturally, I felt inclined to point this out.
"Dude," I said, "I'm pretty sure that English people don't talk like that."
"Oh, yeah?" Charlie challenged, "Hey, Tom. Whose accent was better?"
"I think that you already know the answer to that question, Charlie." Tommy snickered.
Charlie squinted. "Go to Hell." He said.
Tommy smiled. "I can't." He confessed, "I've already been there."
At this point, Jeremy cut in. "Guys," He said, "Quit with the accents. And don't use your traumatic experiences against other people, Tommy. It's screwed up."
"I apologize for using such dark humor as a comeback. But he deserved it." Tommy said, in a surprisingly subtle accent. On that note, Charlie punched him in the shoulder, and pulled out my magazine.
Tommy looked over at it, and grinned. I did the same. For the next several minutes, we passed the porn back and forth, pointing out women that we thought we especially attractive. Then, Jeremy chose to comment on it.
"You know, this is kind of pointless." He said, "None of us are ever going to get girls like that."
Charlie turned to face him, and said, "A boy can dream, right?"
"Could you just do us all a favor?" Jeremy replied, "'Dream' in the woods. We'll wait for you."
"Oh, shut up." Charlie said, putting the magazine back in his bag. To replace it, he took out his baseball, proceeding to toss it in the air. Following suit, I began playing with a yo-yo.
This lasted for about five minutes, until Jeremy spoke. "Put away your toys, lads." He said, "We're here."
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