By slavebladeboi
Drink it? Throw it? Do what it said? The bottle sat on the top of Joey’s desk where he had put it half an hour earlier. His gut crawled, but whether it was with fear or excitement he was too wound up to figure. The “do what it said” was the small message written on the base of the bottle-
Here 6pm tomorrow.
So what? Bring it with him, drink it now or what? He couldn’t think straight.
It didn’t help when Chris barged in through the unlatched door. “Hey dude, did you manage to … anything wrong J?” Chris saw Joey sitting staring at a clear plastic drinking bottle perched on his desk like it was some kind of religious idol. He gave a sort of embarrassed laugh. “Joey. Hey, what’s the matter?”