The pavement is hard against worn shoes and Darren has trouble keeping consciousness in the sun. He approaches the house, knowing he is the hero. The door swings open, motivated by Darren's open hand, and a flurry of activity concentrates on his person. The beer is circulated and the drunks gather like flies to shit. Glug, glug, glug.
Smiles begin to enter the room.
The drunks are fed, and the music begins to play. Only drunks listen to Rush anymore. Its not so much the quality of the music as it is the embarrassment of admitting you listen to it. We live in a different world these days, and its not a rock and roll world. But the drunks, they can still rock.