Cody hummed a few bars of “Sister Christian” as he dried his face off and put his glasses on before exiting his bathroom. Walking into his small studio and sitting down on the couch, he grabbed his phone from the coffee table, opened it up, and tapped out a message to Mike.
“WHERE R U?”
No sooner than Cody set it down did the phone vibrate twice, a green LED on the hinge flashing along with it. Opening the phone again, Cody read:
“OMW C U IN A FEW”
“Great, that could mean anything.” Cody thought as he exhaled though his nose. Seeing that it looked like he now had time to kill. Cody decided to see what was on TV at the moment.
Cody’s TV (A 32’ Trinitron), laid atop a dresser cabinet that had been repurposed into a makeshift media center. An early model PlayStation 2 laid horizontally across the top of the screen. Cody had no intention of playing anything though, so he just took the remote off the coffee table and turned the TV on.
“-pokesman, stated that there was a total of three suicide trucks carrying a combined two tons of explosives. The current death toll is estimated to be at least five hundred, and is expected to steadily rise.”
Cody frowned, He tried not to give much thought about the war, which was fairly easy as he didn’t know anyone who was enlisted. Even so, he didn’t want to put himself in a bad mood ahead of the party, so he quickly turned the channel.
“-WELCOME, to my CRIB!”
“Cameras are flashing, while we’re dirty danc-“
“-text “XL10” to 755 55, now!”
After about a minute of surfing through channels, Cody had settled on an old Tom & Jerry short being played on Boomerang. Cody let himself relax for a few minutes, occasionally chuckling at one of the show’s gags. Eventually, A hard pounding at the front door startled Cody away from the TV, signaling Mike’s arrival. He got up from the couch and made his way over to the door to unlock it, Mike unleashing a second volley of knocks upon the door as he did so. “CHRIST, CALM DOWN, I’M COMING!” he shouted as he arrived at the front door.
Undoing the deadbolt, Cody came face to face with Mike. Physically speaking, the years had been kind to him, with much of his baby fat having been grown into at this point. His sense of taste, however, as evidenced by his combo of an Abercrombie polo, Ed Hardy sneakers, and an overgelled fauxhawk. Nevertheless, the two of them were glad to see each other, Mike seeming to be in a particularly jovial mood as he extended his arm out for a handshake. “Fuck, there you are man! How’s it going?”
Cody took Mike’s hand and was subsequently jerked around a little by his overly vigorous shaking. “Fine, I guess.”
“Great to hear, great to hear. C’mon, the car’s parked outside.”
“Alright, just let me get the TV.”
Cody headed back into the apartment and grabbed the remote, clicking the TV off. As he turned back to face Mike, he noted a bitter amusement in his expression. “Is that what you’re wearing?” he practically scoffed.
“What?” Cody questioned, before looking down to make sure there wasn’t any sort of stain on his modest outfit of blue jeans and a black Decepticon symbol t-shirt. Finding nothing of the sort, he looked back to Mike “Yeah, why?”
Mike exhaled sharply through his nose. “You look like a fucking dork, that’s why.”
“Fuck you.” Cody said dismissively. Truth be told, he wasn’t that upset. This type of petty teasing had been common between the two of them from the day they met, and he’d already been half-expecting for him to say something like that anyway. Still, his sense of pride demanded that he give some type of defense, no matter how weak.
“Man, how do you expect to ever get any when you keep going out dressed as a…” Mike paused for a moment as he mentally searched for a suitable insult. “…Like some kinda pervert.”
“Fuck you mean, pervert?” Cody snapped back, more out of confusion than anger.
“I don’t fuckin’ know, but when a girl sees a 24-year-old man out in public wearing a fuckin’ cartoon shirt, they’re bound to think something’s wrong with him.”
Cody picked up a light jacket from his floor and put it on. “You’re acting like I’ve got a Barney shirt on or something. It’s Transformers. It’s cool robots. Everyone likes those.”
Sensing that he had little chance of convincing Cody to change into something nicer, Mike raised his hands in concession. “Christ, forget about it. Let’s just get out of here.” And with that, the two of them headed on their way.
After a brief climb down the stairway, the two emerged from the slightly scuzzy, brick-veneered apartment building and into the cool breeze of the slightly overcast late August afternoon. Mike’s car was parked by the curb in front of the building’s entrance. It was a dull grey Buick sedan, about a decade old. It was the kind of car that no one under the age of 40 would be caught dead in unless it had been handed down to them from a parent, as Mike’s had been.
“So, who’s house is it that this party’s at again?” Cody asked Mike as he settled himself into the passenger seat, kicking aside a few discarded wrappers in the process.
“No clue.” Mike said, pulling out onto the street. “I only know about it ‘cause my friend Bradley said that he’d be going.”
At the mention of Bradley’s name, Cody’s mood instantly began to sour. “Ah fuck, Bradley’s gonna be there?”
“You’ve met?”
“Yeah, no shit we’ve met. You don’t remember the New Year’s Eve party last year?”
His memory jogged, Mike replies. “Ah, right.”
“The fucking guy kept getting up in my face and calling me a chink.” Cody recalled, making no effort to hide his displeasure.
Mike didn’t remember any of this from the party, but knowing Bradley, he felt like it was plausible enough, so he chalked that up to having had a few too many. “Yeah, his sense of humor’s pretty out there.”
“I don’t think he was joking; I think he just thought I was Chinese.”
“Ah, you’re being overdramatic.” Mike said, waving off Cody’s complaint and bringing an end to the conversation. The two of them sat in silence for a few minutes after, Cody staring listlessly out the window at the passing storefronts. Eventually, however, something caught his eye, and his attention was pulled toward the car’s dash.
On the dashboard, in the area where the car’s stereo was once held, was now a gaping plastic hole holding little more than a few disconnected wires. Curious, Cody pointed it out to Mike. “What happened there, you get robbed?”
“Nah, I just got the stereo taken out last week so they can put a new one in.” Mike replied, seemingly unbothered by the unsightly hole in his dashboard.
“It takes them a week to do that?” Cody asked, skeptical, but not knowledgeable enough on the subject to know if that was unusually long.
“No, No. I’m having it imported from overseas. Real top-of-the-line shit. They said they’d call me as soon as they got it in.”
Cody raised an eyebrow. “You bought a stereo without listening to it first?”
“Yeah, but they had like, one of those little booklets with the speaker’s specs in it at the shop.”
“Ah.” Cody said. The answer satisfied him momentarily, but after a few moments thought, he realized that something wasn’t adding up. “But why wouldn’t they just take the stereo out once they got the new one in instead of making you wait for it without a stereo?”
“Well-“ Mike started before his train of thought came screeching to a halt. Mike was dead silent for a few moments as he scoured his mind for an explanation that didn’t involve him getting scammed. Coming up empty-handed, Mike dug into his pocket and took out his cell phone. “I’ve gotta make a call.”
Mike was still on the phone with his sound guy when the two of them pulled up outside the party. It was being held in the lower level of a duplex in a recently built housing development on the outside of town. Mike put the car in park, and Cody stepped out, while he stayed in the car to finish his call. Cody stepped onto the fresh cement sidewalk that ran outside the duplex, still unweathered by the elements for the moment being. There were a handful of other cars already parked outside. A Hummer, A Supra, A Charger – All of them were far nicer than Mike’s, but he seemed too preoccupied with his conversation to care much.
Cody couldn’t hear much of what Mike was saying from outside the car, but from his body language, he seemed to be displeased. The longer the conversation went on, the longer the pauses in his speech went, his expression steadily growing into a mixture of shock, confusion, and rage. At that point, Mike seemed to have hit a breaking point, yelling something into the phone’s receiver. He said a few more words, then pulled the phone away to look at the screen. They’ve hung up. Mike let out a muffled “MOTHERFUCKER!!!” before shoving the phone back into his pocket and getting out of the car, slamming the door behind him as he walked over to Cody. “Let’s go.” Cody was a little curious as to what the exact details of the phone call were, but decided not to risk upsetting Mike further by asking him about it.
The two of them headed down the driveway towards the house’s front door, where a muscular, dreadlocked man in a tank top was collecting an entrance fee. As they approached the man gave them a warm smile before starting to speak in a thick Jamaican patois. “Wagwan, bredren, wagwan?”
Cody shot Mike a confused look, hoping he could understand the man better than he could. Mike replied, “…Fine.”
“Criss, criss, mi wi nedda ten dalla from bot’ ah yuh.”
Mike was only just about able to figure out what the man was saying. Making an educated guess, he took out his wallet and handed the man a $20 bill. He gave it a brief once over before smiling and ad stepping aside to let them through. “Tank yuh, tank yuh, Fulljoy di party. Jus nuh guh a start eni chubble.”
“Alright.” Mike nodded toward the man, before the two of them headed into the house.
Once they were inside the entranceway, they quickly started heading down the stairway leading down into the house proper. “You got all that?” Cody asked Mike, slightly disbelieving.
“I heard “Ten Dollars”. That’s pretty much all I needed.” Mike responded. As the two reached the bottom of the staircase, Mike began taking in the party’s atmosphere and was quite obviously unimpressed. “Oh, what the hell…”
To say that the party was dead would’ve been an understatement. Of the dozen or so attendees that were scattered throughout the barren living room, only one, a drunken, breaded man who looked to be in his mid-30s, seemed to have any interest in dancing, the rest all preferring to stand and mull about the barren living room. The only furniture of any sort to speak of was a light-up DJ booth placed at the far end of the room, behind which a young man in a Blackhawks snapback was playing “Fergalicious”. Standing near the booth was a 20-something-year-old man dressed in a Playboy bunny t-shirt and sporting a Durst-esque goatee, who was unsuccessfully attempting to chat up one of the partygoers. Fortunately for her, he caught sight of Mike and headed off to greet him, giving no mind to the dissatisfied expression that he wore.
“Mike! I was beginning to think you weren’t gonna make it!” Bradley said before he turned over to face Cody. “And I see you’ve brought you’ve brought your slant-eyed friend.” He added, before putting his hands together and giving the very much white Cody a mocking bow.
At this point, the two of them were both very upset with Bradley, although for very different reasons. Mike was the first to let his displeasure be known. “What the fuck’s this?”
“What?”
Mike motioned around him with his hands. “This. The party. You said there was gonna be like a hundred people here. I’ve seen fucking elementary school parties livelier than this.”
“You spend a lot of time hanging around elementary schools?” Bradley said, in a smug, self-satisfied, “get a load of how unbelievably funny I am” sort of tone. He followed it up with a large, shit-eating grin.
“I’m in no fucking mood for comedy.” Mike snapped back. As he began going off on Bradley, Cody found his gaze beginning to wander around the room, looking for something to hold his interest until the two of them had finished their squabbling. Eventually, his gaze landed upon a woman about his age with a stripe of green running down the bangs of her black hair. She was leaning up against the kitchen counter, lit cigarette in her hand, seemingly unconcerned at the prospect of the apartment’s owner catching her smoking indoors.
The sound of Mike raising his voice took Cody’s attention away from her. He seemed to be a few moments away from having a vein show up on his forehead. “I just got ripped off a shitton of money. I could be out trying to get it back, but instead I decided to come here, Since I thought it'd be a fun time, and not just a few retards standing in a dark room listening to the Black Eyed Peas.”
Bradley raised his hands defensively, taking a step back while doing so. “Take it easy, man! It’s only like 9:30, the party’s barely started.”
“It is?” Mike turned toward the kitchen to check the microwave clock. Sure enough, it was far earlier than he thought it would be. Realizing this, Mike began calming down. “Shit, you’re right. I thought it was like eleven.”
Bradley smirked, satisfied at having won the argument. “Yeah, man. Just give it an hour or two and this is gonna be jumpin’.”
“Alright, fine. Let’s see where we’re at after I’ve had a few drinks.” Cody digressed.
“Oh, well, they’re all out of booze.” Bradley stated matter-of-factly.
Mike looked at Bradley in frustrated disbelief, his mood quickly souring once more. “Are you kidding me?”
“Why would I lie about that?”
“You just said that the party was barely started, how the hell are they already out of booze?”
Bradley shrugged his shoulders uncaringly. “Fuck should I know? The guy probably just misestimated or some shit. I think out picking some more up right now.”
Sensing that the conversation was headed nowhere quick, Cody slipped away from Mike’s side unnoticed, making his way over to the smoking girl in the kitchen. Now that Cody was closer, he was able to get a better look at her attire. Torn leather pants, Chuck Taylors; and a black Coheed and Cambria tee worn over a striped longsleeve.
The girl paid Cody little attention as he walked up to the counter, leaning up against it in a similar fashion as she had. For a few moments, the two stood in silence, Cody’s brain scrambling for something to say. Eventually, the silence became too much for him to bear, and Cody forced himself to say something.
“Whaddya smoking?”
“Camels.” The girl said, taking the pack from her pants pocket and offering it to Cody.
“No, I don’t smoke.” Cody said, shaking his head.
“Hm.” The girl put the cigarettes back in her pocket. “So what was that then, you trying to make small talk?”
Cody exhaled shallowly, the ghost of a chuckle on his lips. “Well, it's not like I have much else to go from. I don't even know your name.”
The girl took another drag of her cigarette before responding. “Amy, you?”
“Cody.”
She nodded, before looking off elsewhere, clearly somewhat disinterested. “You go out to this sort of thing often?”
“No, I’m not really the partygoing type. I just ended up getting dragged here by a friend.”
“Who’re you with?” Amy asked.
Cody turned around and pointed Mike out of the crowd. “The bigger one on the left.” He was still talking with Bradley. Cody couldn’t make their words out over the combined sound of the crowd and 50 Cent blaring from the DJ’s speakers, but it looked like Bradley was trying to explain something to him judging from how he rubbed his forehead in frustration.
Upon taking a moment to observe Mike, Amy gave a small smile. “You two seem mismatched.” She ribbed.
“We’ve known each other since grade school. He was the only other kid in my class who thought Pogs were stupid.”
“So that made you best friends?”
“Made us something, I guess.” Cody stated, matter-of-factly.
Just then, the conversation was interrupted by a sudden bellow of “WHO’S READY TO GET FUCKIN’ WASTED?!?!” Turning back around to see what the cause of the commotion was, Cody was met with the sight of a man descending the staircase, holding a large cardboard box loaded with various bottles and cans of booze. Almost as soon as he reached the bottom of the stairs, partygoers began crowding around, eager for their pick from the box.
“There we go.” Cody thought to himself, relieved that he wouldn’t have to go through the night without any form of social lubrication. Confidence already growing, he turned back towards Amy “You uh, want me to get something for you?”
The act of simple chivalry did little to impress Amy, but nevertheless, she took him up on the offer. “Just get whatever.”
Cody nodded and headed over to the small crowd that had quickly formed around the man. Seeing Mike and Bradley digging through the box, he pushed his way through the crowd and walked up behind them, knowing they’d let him through. Bradley, taking a bottle of bottom-shelf tequila, turned around to find Cody only a few inches away from him. Bradley flinched, nearly dropping the bottle. “CHRIST, you fucking scared me. That’s some fucking ninja shit right there.”
Cody was unamused at the mockery of his nonexistent heritage, and lightly shoved Bradley aside without another word. Looking into the box, Cody could see that its procurer had spared every expense in loading it up. Its contents were largely the sort of plastic-bottled swill that only the most severe of alcoholics would even consider drinking on a regular basis. Digging around in search of something palatable, Cody managed to find a one-liter bottle of Smirnoff Ice lying on the bottom.
Thankful he was able to find something decent. Cody took the bottle and began heading back over to Amy. “Hey, c’mon man, where’re you going?” Mike objected, not wanting to have gone through the trouble of picking Cody up only to be immediately ditched. In lieu of a response, Cody gestured towards the kitchen counter where Amy was waiting. Mike quickly got the message. Nodding his head and giving Cody a stiff pat on the shoulder as if to say, “Good luck”.
Returning to Amy, Cody set the bottle down on the counter in front of them. “Smirnoff Ice’s fine, right?”
Stubbing her cigarette out on the counter, Amy took the bottle and gave the label a quick once over before nodding in approval. Amy cracked the top of the bottle open and took a big swig from it. Once finished, she handed the bottle back over to Cody as she wiped her mouth off, muttering “S’good.”
Not wanting to seem cowardly, Cody took the bottle from her and knocked back some of the sweet, lukewarm liquid. Taking the bottle down from his lips, he swallowed, the drink leaving a saccharine aftertaste behind in his mouth. “So, you new in town?” Cody asked, secretly hoping that conversation would slow down the rate of alcohol consumption.
“No, why?”
“It’s just that I’ve lived here my whole life, and I don’t think that I’ve ever run into you before.”
Amy smiled, took the bottle back from Cody, and took another drink before responding. “Well, how do you that we haven’t met before, and that you just didn’t notice me that other time?”
Without missing a beat, Cody responded. ‘Nah, I feel like I’d remember you.”
The two of them locked eyes for a moment, and Cody’s confidence grew even more. He guessed from Amy’s personality that she wasn’t the type of girl to tolerate talking too long to people she dislikes, so the fact their conversation had lasted this long felt like a sign that she liked him somewhat, even if just platonically.
Cody motioned for Amy to hand the bottle back over to him. “What high school did you go to anyways?”
Amy rolled her eyes a little at the cliched question but obliged his curiosity. “Massey Park. You?”
“Morgan Heights.” He paused as he took another drink. “You go to college?”
“No, after four years of high school I just wanted it to be over with.”
Cody gave a humorless smile. “Yeah, there’s a lot of times I wonder if I should’ve just done that too.”
“Oh yeah, what’d you study?” Amy asked.
“Film, at DU. Load of good it did me though. Flunked out in my second year.” Cody remarked bitterly.
“Yeah, what happened?”
“I always wanted to do things one way and they wanted them another. Now all I have to show for it is a loan I’ll still be paying off five years from now.” Cody paused, before turning his head to look at Amy. “But hey, you probably don’t want to hear me whining about my problems. What about you, what do you do for a living?”
“I just work part-time at my uncle’s car dealership.”
“What, like a salesman?” Cody corrected himself. “Saleswoman?”
“No, nothing like that, just a lot of admin work. Taking inventory. Shit like that.”
“Ah, alright.” Cody nodded.
“I also play in a band sometimes,” Amy added. “But I wouldn’t really call that something I do for a living.”
Cody stood up a little straighter, his attention now piqued. “You play in a band? How come you didn’t lead with that?”
Amy clarified. “It’s just a hobby. We only do a dozen or so shows a year. We haven’t even played outside Arnav.”
“Yeah, but still, if I were in a band I’d be bragging about it to everyone I met.”
“I am just the bassist.” Amy drily joked.
Cody disregarded her comment and continued questioning her about the band. “So, what’s the band called then?”
“We’re The Unloved Children. And before you ask, I’d say we sort of sound like Green Day if they were a little heavier.”
“That’s a good name.” Cody said, mentally filing it away for later. “You guys have like a MySpace page or something?”
“No, we keep saying we should make one, but we never end up doing it.” Amy and Cody both smiled a little at this.
“That’s a shame. I’d love to hear what you sound like.” Cody said. While there was some truth in his statement. He mainly just said it because it felt like the right thing to say.
If Amy felt Cody was insincere, she didn’t show it, “There might be a few videos of us up on YouTube. Probably lousy quality though.”
“Yeah, I’ll have to check that out when I get home.” Cody glanced at the bottle of Smirnoff Ice sitting on the counter before him, which was now only about a quarter full. Had they really been drinking that much? He didn’t feel like it. In fact, it felt like he’d only just gotten the bottle a few seconds ago.
There was a large part of his brain that practically seemed to be screaming at him to make a move on her, that if he played his cards right there was a chance that could get laid that night. However tempting that possibility seemed, he didn’t want to come off as too forward and risk ruining her impression of him. He decided to take it slow for the moment and gauge her interest. “You mind giving me your number?” he asked, trying to sound like this is something he does regularly.
Amy didn’t seem fully convinced of his bravado, but didn’t seem upset either. “What for?” she teased.
“Well…” Cody scrambled for a response and was somehow able to spit one out. “You just seem like an interesting person, and I think I’d like to talk with you again sometime after this.”
“Just talk?”
“Well, maybe we could meet up for lunch or something sometime. If you wanted to.” Cody offered.
Amy shot him a coy look before taking her phone out of her pocket and opening it. “I don’t have anything to write with on me, so you’ll have to put this down in your phone.” Understandingly, opened his own phone up and navigated to the contacts menu.
“Ready?” She asked.
“Yeah.”
Amy began slowly reading out her number, one digit at a time. “5…5…5…” Cody quickly entered each number into his contacts as she read them off. “5…4…8…” Another three digits were tapped out on the keypad. “1…4…6…4.” Amy finished. Cody entered the last number into his phone and hit enter, saving it into his contacts.
“Great.” Cody said, putting his phone away. He looked back towards the main dancefloor, where he could see Mike trying to shotgun a tallboy. “I should probably head back before he gets the idea to come over here himself.” Cody joked.
Amy seemed to agree. “Yeah, he seems the type to be an annoying drunk.”
Cody half-heartedly defended his friend. “He’s not that bad once you get to know him.”
“Yeah, I’m sure he isn’t.” Amy said, just flatly enough for one to have trouble telling if she was being sincere or not. “It’s been good talking to you.”
“Likewise.” Cody said before making his way across the room to Mike with a small grin. At this point, Mike had mostly finished his drink, tepid domestic lager running down the sides of his mouth and onto his shirt as he finished the last few gulps. Once finished, he spiked the empty can on the ground like a football and raised his hands as the crowd cheered. Taking notice of Cody, he took him by the hand and pulled him towards him. “Heyyy, Cody!” he yelled, raising his hand like a referee would a victorious boxer. Lowering their arms, Mike led Cody away from the center of the crowd so they could talk privately. “How’d it go?” Mike asked, still quite loudly.
“What, with her?” Cody gestured back towards the counter where Amy was finishing off the Smirnoff Ice.
“Yeah, no shit with her!” Mike playfully nudged Cody. “C’mon, what the fuck else would I be asking about?”
Cody laughed a little, even though Mike’s nudge had hurt a little. “It went good.”, He said. “I think she likes me.”
“Really now?” Mike asked, a twinge of disbelief showing itself in his voice.
Picking up on this, Cody decided to rub his victory in Mike’s face a little, just to make it clear to him he wasn’t lying. “Yep. In fact, I even got her number.”
“Bullshit!” Mike said laughingly, his disbelief now making itself explicit. “Let me see it then.”, he asked.
Cody shook his head. “There’s no way in hell I’m gonna mess this up for myself by giving you her number.”
“I didn’t say I wanted her number, I just wanted to see it.”
“So you can take it.”
‘Cody, I’m already on my third beer of the night. I couldn’t memorize her name, much less her number.”
Cody briefly considered showing him the number, he certainly seemed to be as drunk as he said he was. In the end though, the mental image of Mike calling up Amy (likely drunk) and trying to get into her pants was too strong for him to feel comfortable doing so. Cody shook his head, then added, “Her name’s Amy. Let’s see if you remember that tomorrow.”
With that being said, Cody quickly put aside the topic of Amy for the night and asked Mike to get him a beer. The rest of the night was enjoyable, if fairly unremarkable as far as parties go. At some point around two hours after they’d spoken, Amy had seemingly had enough of the party and had left without saying another word to him. By around two, things were beginning to slow down as more and more people trickled out of the house. Mike at this point had gotten drunk enough to pass out on the floor, leaving Cody to dial a cab for himself.
About 15 minutes went by before Cody saw the taxi pull up outside through the window. Looking back at Mike’s unconscious body, he considered dragging him into the cab and dumping him on his sofa once he got home but figured he would be more upset about having to pick up his car than he would spending the night on a stranger’s floor. “He’ll probably be fit to drive by the time he’s woken up.” Cody reasoned to himself as he climbed the stairway leading out of the duplex.
By the time that he’d arrived back home, all that was on Cody’s mind was lying down on the couch and falling asleep. As he began settling in for the night, he vaguely started to remember what he said to Amy about checking her band out online. “Whatever, I can always do that tomorrow.” Cody thought to himself, trying to push the thoughts from his mind so he could get some sleep before his shift in the morning. No matter what though, he couldn’t help himself from thinking about the band. Grumbling to himself, Cody got up off his couch and walked over to his computer.
While by no means a bad computer, Cody’s desktop was anything but impressive. A single look at the computer’s bland, no-frills casing and dinky LCD monitor told you at once that it probably couldn’t run Crysis. Regardless, it worked well enough for Cody’s purposes, which were mainly related to wasting time on the internet.
Opening up Internet Explorer, Cody quickly made his way onto YouTube. Once he’d made it to the home page, He took a moment to jog his memory before making a search for “the unloved children”.
After scrolling through a few pages of pop-psychology videos on parenting, Cody found a video titled “UNLOVED CHILDREN AT CLUB 355 – 10/13/06” that seemed to be what he was looking for. Cody clicked on the video, only to be met with the distinctively unintelligible sound of a cell phone recording. The visual quality of the recording was similarly poor, the picture resembling that of a VHS tape being played at the bottom of a swimming pool. It was no wonder Cody was only the 23rd person to watch the video.
Cody spent a good 30 seconds trying to make out a lyric or band member before growing frustrated and closing the page. It was far too late for him to be wasting his time trying to make sense of this crap. Cody slouched back over to his couch and collapsed onto it. “Amy might have some better quality recordings on hand. I should call her sometime this week.” Cody faintly thought to himself as he started to fade into unconsciousness.