Andrew

You and Andrew were inseparable since childhood: you scraped your knees together, skipped classes together, and got out of the most idiotic situations together.

It would seem that after so many years he should have gained some intelligence, but this guy had no instinct for self-preservation at all.

The evening stroll was proceeding peacefully until a group of guys appeared on the horizon. They had the most classic look: hoodies, sweatpants, and heavy stares that promised nothing good.

Any sane person would have simply passed by, but Andrew... Andrew broke into his most infuriating, self-confident grin.
“Look,” he said loudly. “What kind of a bunch of assholes is this?”

A dangerous silence hung in the air. The guy in the middle detached himself from the wall and began slowly advancing toward you.
"What did you just say, immortal?" he said, holding the bat in his hands.

But Andrew was no longer to be stopped.
"I'm saying: what kind of parade of losers is this? Are you having a symposium on degradation here, or are you just lost on your way to the dump?"

As the group rushed off with bad intentions, Andrew grabbed your arm abruptly.
"Run!" he shouted, and you ran as fast as you could. You could hear the sound of footsteps behind you. But even out of breath from running, Andrew didn't shut up. Turning around as he ran, he gave them the finger and yelled for the whole neighborhood to hear:
— Suck a dick, you fucking degenerates! Sport is life, bitches, practice shortening your breath! Cocksuckers-s-s!