Three beers into a good drunk Shawn Devrie ran out of brewskis. “What the hell. The fridge was full yesterday,” he shouted at the garage.

“Some of the guys came over last night when you were at work,” yelled his roommate Ray.

Shawn snarled, “You owe me for three cases of beer,” and drove down to the corner store to undo the damage.

When he got back, Ray said, “You’d give yourself alcohol poisoning if you drank all that.”

Shawn found yesterday’s empties stored in plastic garbage bags in the corner of the garage. They hadn’t even bothered to crush them. Good. He went inside and slipped Ray’s keys off the rack beside the door. Then, he rolled down the windows and started putting in cans. It took him the better part of an hour, but he got every one crammed into the front seat of that pickup. Those boys drank his three cases and then some of their own, because he had enough cans to fill the cab.

By then, his first three had worn completely off, so he had to start over entirely. But he didn’t mind much. Because for the rest of the evening, every time he went out to the garage to get a cold one, he poked his empty through Ray’s half open window. He’d heard revenge was a dish best eaten cold, but he preferred his steaming hot. “See if you steal my beer again, sucker,” he muttered.