you guys
That's a good few minutes you've been lying here, semi-conscious, and it looks like things aren't going to get better by themselves. This calls for action!
> Try to move various bodyparts and use all senses you still possess to gather informations about your surroundings!
The first order of the day is a swift self diagnosis. Legs? Shaky, though present. Bladder? Critical mass, but that will have to wait wait. Arms? Check... wait. Wait a minute.
You become aware that you are grasping a cold hard object of some sort. With some effort, and a little haphazardly, you manage to bring your hand, still clutching said object, to your face. Even in the dim light (you still can't tell if it's
actually dark or if you just haven't come round properly yet) you manage to make out the shape of a bottle. Your nose reports the stink of malt whisky.
You wonder...
> Try licking up the substance.
Could this dubious liquid that entraps you be, in fact, your beverage of choice? Only one way to find out!
Though you persist, it turns out, sadly, that your tongue can't quite reach the ground from this position. This'll require some strategic manoeuvring, you reckon. Summoning more strength than you have mustered thus far, you attempt to lift yourself off the ground using your arm... only, you manage to stick your hand in the sticky stuff, and now
it's stuck. Nice going, dipshit.
However, by some method that involves a good deal of flailing around, you manage to free yourself from the puddle of your misery, raise yourself precariously onto your feet and OH DEAR MOTHER OF MARY YOUR HEAD.
It's pretty apparent that you have a hangover. Not just any old hangover - you should know. You aim to have as many hangovers as possible. Today, though, you have the mother and father of all hangovers that ever hung-over anybody, a raging hangover of titanic proportions that feels like it won't go away for weeks...
mission accomplished!
As if to dampen the glorious moment, it turns out that your bladder won't hold any longer.
>Urinate liberally into the wind.
Have you ever tried undoing the buttons on your jeans when most of your cognitive functioning has gone AWOL? It's not easy. Nevertheless, you accomplish the task just in time to let fly into the chilly November wind. It lasts for ages. Amidst the pounding in your head, you feel a strange sense of pride at managing to evade total self-wetting embarrassment.
If you can manage that, you can manage anything. And with the biggest hangover you've ever had? Today, you think, might just be the day!
What do you do now?
>_
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