The ass end of nowhere

Mullapuck, pop. 1241. That’s the only proof that this crappy place was a town at all. We passed the sign at a steady 55 mph, since we were on the hairy edge of running out of gas. Derek stared straight ahead, gripping the steering wheel tightly, knowing we’d all kick the crap out of him if we didn’t find a gas station.
Derek, Henry, Aimi and me were on our way from Amherst to Washington DC to protest human rights abuses in Turkey, and well, I thought we were lost, but Derek said we weren’t. Derek was Henry’s friend, and Aimi was Derek’s "girlfriend". Yeesh. I mean, I was sleeping with Henry, but we didn’t use such anachronistic titles to describe our relationship. He only fucked me, he didn’t rule me.
As we rolled through Mullapuck, Derek was silently freaking. He was counting on there being a gas station there. The whole town was dark. As the road curved, however, we did see one sort of large building with lights on. The sign said "Old Town Lounge". All of our eyes lit up when we saw the gas pump out front.
We pulled up to the pump, but no one came out. Derek honked the horn and we waited for a few minutes, but nothing. We decided to go in. There were definitely people inside. There was country music playing and lights and the smell of smoke.
None of us wanted to go in alone, and we’d been cramped up in the minivan for hours, so we all went. The frosted glass door creaked open noisily and as we came in, all eyes turned towards us.
I guess we were a little bit of an odd sight around these parts. Everyone in the place was like, in their thirties or older, white, farmer types and trailer sluts. Maybe eight or ten people at the most. Meanwhile, we were young, good-looking, ethnic. I mean, I’m black, and 20, and, well, I don’t mean to be conceited or anything, and I’m so not beauty-conscious, but I am 5’9", really slim, and I have a really nice figure, maybe a little bony, but I think it’s nice. Henry is sort of short, but he’s cute, and he’s Korean, and he wears these stupid black glasses because he’s a trendy DJ. It’s fashion, I guess. Derek would have fit in pretty well, since he was a tall, white, and lanky, but his crazy black mop of hair wouldn’t really have fit in in middle America. Aimi was white, too, but she was Greek, so she had a sort of exotic look, with her cute little button nose and long, oval face. Her hair was as wild as Derek’s, but she wore it down almost to her ass, and she could not have been even 5’1". Actually they made a pretty funny-looking couple.
Henry waved ‘hello’ to the locals and made his way to the bar. It’s his way.
I was a little more wary. I grew up in New York, you know? Anyway, we all went up to the bar and ordered a drink. I’m not sure why, but well, it was a bar, and we were all stressed out anyway. Also, when you drink, you tip, and when you tip, you make friends, so we weren’t against drinking in strange places. Derek tried to get the bartender to sell us some gas as I sipped my gin and grape juice. They didn’t have cranberry juice.
The bartender said he’d call the gas man, who wasn’t in the bar, but he’d ‘come on down to it’, while we sat at the opposite side of the three-sided bar as everyone else. I was instantly self-conscious. The ladies were so hating us. I mean, these women were all like, homely, overweight, aging whores. I mean, there were two that I really thought were prostitutes, aging and faded, and the others were like… I’m not prejudiced, but they were really not much to look at. Me and Aimi were getting the MOST evil glares ever, and it’s not like there were guys hitting on us or anything. No one came over to us, and the guys just sort of looked at us, and not in a nice way, either.
I was wearing tight flares and a banana colored tank top that said "RESPECT". I’ll admit it was tight, but I was decent. Aimi, however, was wearing this indecent tie-dyed handkerchief skirt and a sort of half-shirt, and she always wears all these bangles and beads on her wrists and neck and in her hair. She looks like Cyndi Lauper on heroin or something. They hated her worse than me, I think, but I couldn’t be sure.
The bartender was the only one who spoke to us. Most of the conversation in the bar was gone, but we tried to act normal.
"Uhm, Henry, maybe you ought to give Aimi your jacket for a while, it’s cold in here." I said, noticing how her nips were popped out like nobody’s business.
"I’m not cold."
"Just put on the jacket, OK?" I hissed as I turned to Henry. He was slumped over the bar, his glasses mashed off at an ugly angle. I shook my head, not believing it, and I heard a thud behind me. I turned back and saw Derek folded neatly to the floor. Aimi spun around and looked at me oddly, incredulous. I looked at the drink in my hand as the world went dark…

(I know what _I_ was gonna write next, but I figure I’ll leave that up to you guys. Please don’t just add four lines and leave, though. Add some story, add some sex, but add something substantial, please?)