Not a great short story, but a short, great story

Many years ago, probably the summer after I graduated high school, a bunch of my friends were chilling out at a party. At some point, Neil and Nicole ran out of cigarettes, but they had been drinking all night so they couldn't drive to the store. They navigated the house in search of a sober driver, finding only my friend Blog Stevens. Thinking quickly, Blog recognized in his friends' predicament a golden opportunity. He said he would drive them to the store, but only if he was allowed to be as mean to them as he wanted for the entire length of the trip. Hard up for smokes, Neil and Nicole agreed. They knew Blog was a pretty mean guy, but 7-11 was less than a mile away; how bad could it be?

Word of the arrangement quickly got around. By the time Blog's car pulled into the driveway, most of the party had congregated in the front yard.

Nicole emerged first, crying. She scurried into the house. Neil came out next. "Man," he mumbled, slowly shaking his head. "That's fucked up."