Too drunk to drive or even stand at this point but still conscious and aware of the surroundings. Three Barbie girls walk into the party, the first was the skinniest and obviously queen bitch as she ordered her two minions around along with her boyfriend. The second, a sweet, shy girl who was terrified of doing anything that might upset queen bitch, followed her every command. Getting her drinks, lighting her cigarettes and carrying her purse, a purse so big she herself could have lived in it if she had wanted to. Then comes the third blond girl.

The room is spinning now, not because of the alcohol but because of all the frustration these girls are causing everyone in the room. Who invited them? Where did they come from? They are screaming at each other trying to get some point across or something and boyfriend is overdue for his bitching so there goes another five minutes. But the third girl, not quite as tall as the others and not so bitchy, is trying desperately to fit in with the crowd...and even her own friends.

Standing there wondering why this girl would be acting so strange when she is just like all her Barbie friends...the idea wonders away while Jenn and Shanea come up to announce their arrival.

Jenn, a tomboy, a friend for years, babbles on about something while Shanea is busy telling the latest of her eye candy adventures. While hearing but not really listening to the girls the third blond girl turns around to talk to someone else. This girl is about 6 months pregnant, Smirnoff in one hand, cigarette in the other and the smell of weed somewhere in the air. Vomiting seems like a good idea now, not from alcohol but from the sheer sight of this...whatever you want to call it, insert words of shock here experience.

Moving to another room, getting away from the pregnant girl. Shanea follows, talking about the car she saw outside, a blue evo. Laughing, thoughts drift towards the escape vehicle. Shanea follows through the living room where there is a child about 3 or 4 years old, sitting on the floor with a coloring book. How odd? Who would bring a child to a party with drunken people and stoners walking around like idiots? Then a guy who seems to be his father comes to get him and carries him in the kitchen.

Shanea keeps following, eager to see who drives the blue evo parked outside. She is shocked when the door opens and even more confused when the door slams shut and all she is left with is the image of her friend waving goodbye.

No longer at the party, thoughts become clearer now. Putting on the too tight harness like seatbelts, now a passenger, or maybe a prisoner of the evo, we drive down the street...anyone want to race?