"Who the fuck is that," he thought to himself, catching a glimpse of someone that looked familiar. "Is that that fucking guy, Tony, who used to hang out with Trish and them? Man, fuck that guy. If I was rolling with my boys right now I would fuck him up." He lit a cigarette with one hand, gas pump in the other, and took a sweet, long drag as he shoved that reeking gas cock into his car's eager slot. "I wonder if the bathroom here has those glow-in-the-dark condoms," he whispered to himself, idly running his hand over his wallet to feel the bulge of twenty condom rings pressing through his velvet leisure suit pants. Gassed up, he hopped into his sweet ride and accelerated away, only to hard brake, roll down his window and scream, "Fuck you, Tony!" to the guy who was not Tony, before peeling off.