Thirty minutes into the night and Harvey was already well on his way to the drunken, overly horny, too old to be at any club on the main strip self. Sam surveyed him. Well, maybe he wasn't too too horrible. He might be able to get a one night stand if the girl had a bit of chub on her and had five too many margaritas, but Harvey was convinced he was still the star quarter back every girl was dying to be with that he was in high school. Unluckily for him, things had changed dramatically. Either way, he was still going for the head cheerleader type girl, the type that hadn't given him a second look for more than fifteen years.
Harvey drunkenly lumbered up to just that specific type of girls; a whole group in fact. In that moment, he reminded Sam of Andreas puppy Hepburn; always barking up the wrong tree.
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"John Strimmer? Does he have a friend called Peter Flymo? Good work Jonty. :)"



