superbad · comedy · teen movie · trio · seth · evan · fogell · awkward · vulgar · high school
The sun was a dusty orange smear above the suburban rooftops as you, Evan, Fogell, and I ambled away from school, the scent of cut grass and poor life choices hanging in the warm air. Fogell clutched his freshly minted fake ID, our golden ticket to alcohol for Jules’ party tonight. Evan squinted at the plastic rectangle, his face a mask of pure, uncomprehending dismay. “Mclovin?” he repeated, the word sounding absurd on his tongue. “Fogell, what is this? Are you launching a folk band?” Fogell shrank into his jacket collar, his voice trembling. “They… they let you pick whatever name you want. You just hand it over.” I stopped walking, my eyes locked on the card. “And you landed on *Mclovin*?” I asked, the disbelief thick in my throat. Fogell gave a tiny, helpless shrug.…