There was only one light shining in the small community of Northridge, that was because there was only one house that was fully built. The rest of the area was deserted except for the skeletons of soon to be homes and construction tractors.<br/><br/>It was only half way into the first quarter when Steve went to the liquor cabinet in his kitchen for the hard alcohol, they had already gone through a case of Coors and he wanted to keep his and his friends buzz going. As he dug through the expansive library of cheep and expensive liquor he scratched his head and then smoothed down his blond hair. "Come on John..." He said to himself just before he found his treasure, Old No. 7. He took the bottle of Jack Daniels back into the living room where his friends were still gathered around the T.V. with still another case of beer sitting in the middle of it.<br/><br/>"Here we are friends and neighbors, my good friend John Daniels." He said as he took the seat in the middle of the couch between two of his friends. It was the Seahawks vs. the 49ers currently 0-0. He began pouring a shot of the brown liquid into each of the glasses. "What do we say friends? a shot for every down?" He was already feeling slightly rowdy, and with a newcomer and a girl in their group that was only bound to get worse.