It was pitch black on the bus. The wheels hummed below as we passed over miles and miles of interstate overnight. We were all tucked into our bunks, silence had reigned for hours now. I’d been passing time counting sheep and drawing, but now I was out of things to draw, and I didn’t think there was a farmer in the world that owned more that 4,852 sheep.

I wondered, as I pulled my Superman comforter up to my chin and stared at the ceiling of my bunk, who else was awake.

Time… for the ultimate test.

“Five dolla,” I sang into the darkness.

“Five dolla,” came the reply from the next bunk down – AJ’s.

“Five dolla,” I sang again.

“Five dolla,” came sleepy Howie’s voice from the bunk across from me.

Pause. Then, from the lowest bunk, in a groggy Kentuckian accent, “Foot-loooooooooooooong.”

“Ya’ll are awake too?” I asked, sticking my head out the curtain that kept my bunk private.

The other three guys’ heads poked out, and we looked around at each other.

“Here’s a story,” started Brian.

“Of four sleepy singers,” continued AJ.

“Who were traveling on a tour bus to New York,” sang Howie.

“They were four men, living all together,” sang AJ.

“But they all liked girls,” I sang, dropping into my lowest register.

Brian raised an eyebrow and rolled over so he was looking up at us. I pictured him laying Mork from Ork style behind his curtain, feet up on the bottom of Howie’s bunk mattress. He frowned, “Do we all seriously have insomnia at the same time?” he asked.

“Apparently,” I said, frowning.

“This sucks,” AJ bitched. He followed Brian’s lead and rolled over so he was looking up at Howie and I. “What the hell are we gonna do for the next seven hours?”

We all looked at each other.

“OH! OH!” I cried, rolling out of my bunk and landing hard on my feet. I dropped to my knee and laughed, the bottom of my feet smarting. “We should play Call of Duty!” I cried.

“HELL YES!” yelled AJ, “I wanna slaughter Nazi bitch zombies!” he leaped out of his bunk, too.

Brian and Howie exchanged glances.

“Suddenly exhausted, how ‘bout you, D?” Brian asked.

“Exactly what I was thinking.” Howie disappeared behind his bunk’s curtain.

“Sorry guys,” Brian ducked in, too.

“Dammit!” I yelled, pouting. I looked at AJ. “We can still slaughter Nazi bitches without’em!”

We headed into the living room area, where I started hooking up the Playstation 3 to the TV set. AJ was seated on the couch, reading the back of the game box.

I had literally just shoved the A/V plugs into the TV and hit the power button on the console when the bus lurched like hitting turbulence on a plane, and an unbelievably loud explosion sound reverberated through the bus. I leaped off the floor as the bus tilted slightly towards the back right, and shouted, “I DIDN’T DO IT!!” at the top of my lungs.

AJ had thrown the DVD case of the game across the room at the sound of the explosion, with an explosion of his own – many, many four letter words poured forth from his mouth like colorful fireworks. So many that I won’t even repeat’em all for you, but seriously if it was a cartoon there would’ve been a crapton of little #$!!” signs coming outta his mouth.

As the bus thump-thumped and rolled his way slowly to a stop, Brian suddenly appeared at the door to the living room, his eyes wide, Howie nearly running into him from behind. “What the hell happened?!?” Howie yelled in his most Puerto Rican accent.

“I didn’t do it!” I yelled. “I was just pluggin’ in the Playstation, I swear to God!” I pointed at the console as if I needed proof.

“It was outside, dipshit,” AJ yelled.

“Stop yelling!” Brian cried. We all fell silent. “Let’s go find out what the hell went down.” He turned and Howie followed his example. Me and AJ ran after them down the length of the tour bus to the driver’s pit. Chris was sitting behind the wheel, looking shaken.

“What happened, dude?” I called over Brian and Howie’s shoulder, stretching my neck to see the road ahead, even if I was like a foot taller than Howie.

Chris looked up, “I think the tire’s blown out.”

Chris unbuckled his seatbelt and stood up. Palming the button for the door, he charged down the steps to the cement that rang alongside the highway where he’d managed to pull the bus into the breakdown lane. Howie, Brian, AJ and I followed quickly, pouring out onto the highway.

Cars rushed by, and torn up pieces of rubber dotted the freeway, getting caught up in the wind velocity of passing traffic. The rim of the bus’ tire was bent a little and scraped up and there was marks in the cement from it etching. “Cool,” I muttered, “I bet it sparked.” I ran over and put my fingers in the groove. It was literally hot. “Oh dude, this is epic.” I whipped out my Blackberry and snapped a picture of my finger in the groove and promptly pulled up my Twitter.

Brian frowned, “That sucks,” he muttered.

“This is going to be fucking expensive,” Howie sighed.

“It’s also going to take a bit. We don’t have an extra spare on the bus,” Chris said with a groan.

“Dammit,” AJ reached into his pocket and pulled out his pack of Marlboros and sat down on the guard rail, flipping open a lighter and flicking it on, lighting up the cigarette.

“What’re we gonna do?” Brian asked, looking between Chris and Howie.

I was diligently taking pictures of all the elements of our drama and posting them on Twitter. I turned the Blackberry’s camera onto video mode and filmed the flapping rubber remains of our tire as it flew over the highway. “And there, ladies, is why you always have a spare tire. Look, check this out.” I knelt down next to the tire to get a close up of the rim. “I’m betting it sparked.” I reached out to touch it. “OW! SHIT! IT’S HOT!” I pulled my hand back, then reached out and touched it again. “FUCK!”

“Then don’t touch it, you doofus,” AJ snapped.

“Shut up!” I yelled, not sure what else to say. I stood up and backed away from the bus. I looked at AJ, “I dare you to touch it.”

Chris opened his cell phone and started dialing. “I’ll have to call triple A.” He wandered away a little ways to talk to AAA without our antics getting in the way.

I looked at the other three guys. “None of ya’ll have the balls to touch the hot rim, I bet,” I goaded them.

Howie rolled his eyes, “Ay Dios mio, Nick, I’m not burning my hand to entertain you.” He sat down by AJ on the guard rail.

AJ shrugged and jumped up. “How much you betting?” he asked.

“Fifty,” I said, fishing in my pocket.

“Okay, you’re on.

AJ came over and knelt down next to the rim. He hesitated. “How hot is it?” he asked.

I held up my already blistering finger.

“Shit.” He took a deep breath. “Okay. Fifty bucks. I can do this.”

“What’re you a fucking idiot?” Howie demanded.

AJ looked ‘round at him. “Fifty bucks, man…”

Howie rolled his eyes, “Says the guy that makes about a million dollars a year. Jesus.”

AJ turned back to the tire rim and stared at it, contemplating. “Yeah but this is Nick’s fifty bucks, that makes it worth it.”

“You’re too much of a pussy to touch it anyways,” I goaded him. “You gotta keep it there, too, for ten seconds.”

“WHAT?” AJ glared up at me, “That was not a part of the original dare.”

I waved the fifty in front of his nose.

“Fine, you fucking little…” he took a deep breath, his muttering tampering off. I trained my Blackberry on his hand as it neared the rim. “Okay. Okay. C’mon, McLean, you can do this.” He blew out his cheeks and shook his head.

“By the time he touches it, it’s gonna be cooled off,” Brian pointed out, peering over my shoulder.

Howie’s voice was annoyed. “You guys are all morons.”

Chris came back, “Well AAA is coming with an extra tire and – What the shit are they doing?”

“Burning AJ’s fingers,” Howie answered.

“Okay.” AJ took another deep breath.

“Can I watch?” asked Chris.

Howie groaned, “Don’t encourage them!”

“JUST DO IT YOU PUSSY!” I screamed into AJ’s ear and he threw his hand forward onto the rim.

“FUCKING A! JESUS! WHAT THE FUCK!” he yelled, immediately pulling his hand back. “Duuuuuuudeee!” He leaped to his feet, shaking his hand through the air. “Holy fuckin—Holy—“

I looked at Brian. “That was like a half of a half a second, dude,” Brian laughed.

“Fucking ASSHOLE,” AJ yelled, putting his not-burned hand into his pocket and whipping a fifty dollar bill at me.

I grinned and danced around. I waved the fifty in front of the camera. “And THAT ladies and gents, will buy me like TEN footlongs from Subway!”

AJ blew off his hand in a dejected manner, sitting down beside Howie, who shook his head at him.

Brian sighed and looked at his watch. “We’re going to miss that radio interview…” he commented.

“Yeah. More than likely,” Howie said with a sigh. He flipped open his own phone and shook his head. “It’s like five o’clock in the freaking morning.”

AJ sighed, staring at his hand. “Dammit.”

I had sent the video to Twitter and now I was bored. “I’m hungry,” I complained.

“We’ll get breakfast after the bus is fixed,” Howie said.

Brian jumped up onto the rail and balanced on it, holding his arms out like he was tight rope walking, even though the rail was thick and he wasn’t even really balancing much. He smirked and turned around.

“But I’m hungry now,” I complained.

“So start walking,” AJ commanded.

Brian had made it to the other end of the guardrail and turned around again, coming back towards Howie. He was humming the Pippi Longstockings theme song.

“Fuck no! I ain’t walkin’ on the highway,” I complained.

“Thumb it,” he laughed. “Someone will pick you up.”

I shook my head, “Yeah, some psychotic serial killing fan…” I pause. “Ohhh, cereal.”

AJ rolled his eyes.

“Howwwwie,” I whined, “Can we get cereal?”

“I was thinking of something more substantial, but whatever Nick.” Howie was too engrossed in his cell phone.

I kicked a rock. It hit the rim of the tire of the bus and fell to the ground. I sighed, getting restless. “Dude this is wicked boring,” I whined.

AJ was still blowing on his hand. “At least you aren’t fucking injured.”

“INJURED?” I snorted, “Are you kidding me?”

AJ glared. “Hey, this hurts, thank you very much.”

“Such a wuss,” I muttered, turning away.

“Yeah?” He jumped up. “YEAH? YOU DO IT THEN!”

“I did do it,” I snapped.

“No fucking way,” he yelped, “The ten second thing. The thing you were gonna do to me.”

“It’s probably cool by now you guys,” Brian pointed out.

Howie sighed, exasperated, “Can we please stop trying to burn Backstreet Boys hands off?”

“How much?” I demanded AJ.

“If it’s still hot, I’ll give ya a hundred bucks to keep your hand there for ten seconds,” he said. “Brian tests it.”

Brian’s eyes widened and he almost fell off the guardrail as he was balancing. “I’m not touching that thing,” he said, “I’m not stupid, unlike some of us. Mainly you.”

I knelt down next to the rim. “Okay, I’m set.”

“You better tell the truth if its still hot,” AJ warned.

“I will,” I lied.

“Fine. Okay. Ready?”

My hand was already poised.

“Go.”

I dropped my palm and – yeah it was definitely still hot, but no where near as bad as it’d been before. It felt more like the steering wheel of a black interior car after sitting in the sun for the afternoon. I winced like I was in agony and made a high pitched squeaky noise. AJ lapped it up.

“ONE!” he shouted.

“Ow.. ow.. ow..” I faked.

“TWO!”

Brian was watching, an amused grin on his face. He really wasn’t stupid.

“THREE!”

“Shiiiiiiit,” I muttered, “Shiiiiiit…”

“FOUR!”

Chris was laughing.

“FIVE!”

“Halfway there,” Brian snorted.

“SIX!”

Even Howie was starting to show interest.

“SEVEN!”

AJ’s count down suddenly slowed and I pretended to fall forward, clinging my hand to the rim so tight my knuckles were white, and I smacked my free palm on the pavement for the added dramatics.

“….EIGHT!” AJ said slowly.

“YOU’RE COUNTING SLOWER!” I accused – even though I couldn’t care less.

AJ snickered, “Does it huuuurttt?” he asked, “Is it burrrrning?”

“JUST COUNT!”

“….Niiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiine,” he dragged it out.

“FUCKING A!” I yelled.

“Nine and a half…” he said.

Brian was cracking up and Howie was smirking.

“AJ!” I yelled.

“Nine and three quarters…”

“That’s cheating!” I whimpered.

“And so’s faking your fucking hand is burning,” he yelled, yanking my wrist off the tire rim and tapping it with his own hand, “COLD. You fucking FAKE.”

Brian really did fall off the guardrail this time, and landed softly in the grass, his face red as he doubled into himself, laughing hysterically. “Ohhh g’Lord…” he moaned.

“How long did you know?!” I cried.

“You grabbed that WAY too fast,” AJ said.

“I didn’t know when I grabbed it!” I cried.

“If it was hot as it was before, you wouldn’t have kept your hand there, you dipshit. There’s no way in fuck anyone would!” He rolled his eyes. “Now pay up.”

“That’s bullshit! It didn’t count! I was disqualified by the cooling of the rim – that means I don’t gotta pay!” I whined.

“Bull!” he yelled, “You do, too! You would’ve taken my money if I hadn’t caught on! Fork it up, Carter.”

“Hell no!”

Chris was gazing down the highway, “I think AAA’s here,” he said.

“Ave Maria,” the words rolled off Howie’s tongue and he stood up. “These two are on my last nerve.”

“I think they’re funny,” Brian wheezed from the grass.

“Give me my hundred fuckin dollars,” AJ held out his hand.

“You don’t have a hundred fuckin’ dollars, cos I didn’t technically lose.”

The big AAA truck pulled up behind the bus as AJ lunged for me and tackled me over the guardrail. We missed landing on Brian by about a quarter of an inch, and tumbled, one over the other, down the length of the hill that ran alongside the highway. Brian sat up, laughing as we rolled down like Simba and Nala in the Lion King.

“Will you all please!” Howie yelled, rolling his eyes.

AJ and I wrestled at the bottom of the hill as the AAA guy jacked up the bus and started fighting with the rusty lug nuts on the rim.

Brian was laughing harder than ever, tears coming out of his eyes.

“You fucking owe me money,” AJ was yelling.

“You owe me money!” I yelled back.

“Why the fuck would I owe you money?!” he yelled

“BECAUSE!” I cried, “I dunno why, you just do!”

“Like hell I do!”

“GUYS!!!!!!!” Howie bellowed. We both stopped rolling around on the grass. “Jesus Christ you guys are animals. We got the tire, now get up here.”

AJ and I crawled to the top of the hill as Brian was dusting grass and dust off his jeans. The new tire looked exactly like the others, and was a huge improvement to the burn-your-fingers-off rim. “Sweet,” AJ said smiling at it.

After thanking the AAA guy, Howie, Brian, AJ, Chris and I all piled back onto the bus. Chris headed back for the driver’s pit while we all went to our bunks, exhausted from the long night. My head hit the pillow and I thought for sure I’d be out of it within seconds.

“You owe me money,” AJ whispered, kicking the bottom of my bunk from underneath me.

“Bastard, you cheated,” I muttered, rolling over.

“I didn’t cheat, you did,” he said, kicking again.

“Can we please lay this topic to rest?” Howie asked. “You all were both really stupid for doing that.”

“But it as funny,” I pointed out.

The bus started rolling again and silence fell over us. Even AJ didn’t speak, nor did he kick my bunk from underneath. As the quiet ensued, I felt my stomach gurgle in complaint. “I’m hungry,” I muttered.

“Go to sleep, we’ll eat when we wake up,” Howie commanded.

We fell into silence again.

“Five dollah,” I sang.
“Five dolla,” AJ replied.

“Five dolla,” I sang again.

“Five dolla,” muttered Brian, a little annoyed sounding.

Pause.

“Howieeeee?” I whimpered.

“Foot-loooooooooooooong.”