Paul took a massive bite out of his slice of watermelon, chewing noisily. He spit out a seed, hitting a nearby pigeon on the top of its head; the startled bird flew off, clearly picking a random direction. "Did I ever tell you 'bout the time Max and I tried to rob a Seven-Eleven?"
Danny pulled his headphones away from one ear. "No, and I asked you to quit with the stor—"
"See, we'd just finished off a fifth of JD, and felt a little bulletproof. It was Max that said, 'Hey, we need some beer now.'"
Danny rolled his eyes, pulling the earpiece back into position. "I'm ignoring you, Paul. And lay off the watermelon, I can't hear him over your slurping. We're supposed to be monit—"
"Next thing I know, the clerk has a shotgun in my face. I got a clear view down both barrels. They're empty. No shells."
Danny sighed. "No shi—"
An explosion from across the street changed the story in new and exciting ways.