H - Hangover

Hangover
* This is the perfect example of the phrase, “No good deed goes unpunished.”
* That annoying period between inebriation. Can also be avoided by continuously consuming alcohol until dead.

 

Case 1: The Three Stooges & The Game of 'Whodunit'.


"I'm a supernatural Hunter."

"I'm a werewolf-vampire hybrid."

"Yeah, and I'm just a quarterback."

That was the last conversation Matthew Donovan remembered having with his two friends. Other than that, all that he could think of was the banging headache and the urge to puke. He wasn't even sure of if he was still at Tyler's, and before he had chance to get up from his contorted position, a shrill scream broke through the snoring coming from beside him. Jolting up, and nearly projectile vomiting in the process, the quarterback took a slow, deep breath. A hysteric girl burst into the study where Matt and Jeremy had crashed.

"Which one of you did it?!"

Matt nudged the younger boy, still dazed himself.

"What?" Jeremy slurred, rubbing his eyes as he rolled off the desk, a crash and a grunt following.

That was when the girl turned around, her backless top showcasing a giant penis drawn in what looked like black marker. It took them a moment to process the situation but soon both boys struggled with stifling their chuckles while the female was halfway between strangling the life out of her purse and bawling her eyes out.

"Where's Tyler?"

"That's some dick you've got there."

The girl spun around and smacked the newly appeared smirker around the side of the face with her clutch and barked. "It was you, wasn't it?"

Now that the girl had turned to face the home-owner, the illustrative doodle was clear to the other two again.

"Was it you?" Matt whispered to Jeremy, who in turn held his head with on hand while the other wafted through semi-suppressed laughter.

"Maybe it was an...Accident?" The blond tried to calm down the victim, but it only made matters worse.

Without even thinking about it, the short girl picked up one of the cushions and threw it at the speaker's face.

The hunter blinked, trying to make his booze-sopped brain comprehend the action. "Wha-"

Again, the girl lobbed another object. This time it happened to be a book, the corner of it jabbing Jeremy in the ribs and almost provoking him to throw up where he was knelt.

"Calm d-" Tyler was cut off by the angry female shoving past him and knocking him into the door frame before storming off.

"I'm never getting drunk with you guys again." The youngest rubbed the assaulted spot from a hunched position.

The older brunet chuckled. "It was funny though, right?"

"It was you?" The blond asked, surprised that it was actually one of his friends that had done it.

Tyler just grinned and turned around. "There's bacon and eggs in the kitchen."

 

Case 2: Alaric Saltzman; The Cross-Dressing History Teacher.

He'd done it again. This was unacceptable for a high school history teacher. He should have been setting examples for Elena and Jeremy, but instead, he'd spent since 4pm yesterday drinking at The Grill with Damon - that alone should have been a grim omen. Even after he had returned back to his apartment, he broke out the bourbon before passing out amongst unmarked papers at his dining table.

His head throbbed like there was a small creature trying to claw its way out of it and his eyes stung like holy Hell. Even the stench of his own breath made him cringe. Yet, worse than all of that was knowing that he was supposed to be going to the Gilbert's for dinner later on. He didn't even know what time it was - Sometime during the day...Maybe...Hopefully.

Patting around the worksheets littering the small table, Alaric groaned in search for his phone. Once he had found the device, he saw the time - 2:32pm - and his reflection on the screen.

Hair poked out left and right, a receipt was stuck to his cheek via drool and what was that? He squinted and brought his cell closer to his face to get a better look. Blackness was smudged under his eyes and an overly large mole had been added to his features. It was at this time that a shard of the prior night's events splintered in his brain. As he was hanging his head in dismay, his eyes landed on his lap. "Oh no..." On his bare, very manly hair-covered lap. "I don't think I even want to remember this." He flicked the edge of the Barbie pink tutu and grimaced as it bounced back. Staggering up, the homeowner shuffled unstably towards the bathroom to see the extent of his appearance.

What a sight it was.

Now using the mirror in his bathroom, Alaric could see that he was not only wearing a tutu barely keeping what modesty a man in his predicament could, but also the matching sequin boob-tube with 'I'm A Superstar' printed on the front. And the single red stripper heel that wasn't actually on his foot but rather, dragging behind, still attached to his ankle by the thin strap. To top it off, his hair was at some point put into stubby pigtails. All that came to mind was flashes of Damon forcing him into his spandangled get-up and drawing on his face as he cackled drunkenly. It was a funny idea, at the time; Many, many drinks later...

He never prayed, but on this one occasion, he really hoped he hadn't been faux-brave enough in his drunken stupor to make his way across the town square like this.

Alaric was way into alternating between his options for suicide and fighting the urge to spew in the fashion of the chick from the Exorcist when his phone buzzed. Ripping the elastics from his hair and throwing them into the sink, the teacher hobbled back into the main space, his Dorothy platform clunking behind. Picking up his cell, he scowled at it - Half pissed off, half trying to get his eyes to focus.

1 new message - Damon Salvatore.
3 attachments.

'Remember last night?'

Without wasting a second, Alaric opened the first picture and in even less time than it took to click the icon, he threw his phone down on the couch with a rush of slurred curses. It was one thing to get him as drunk as he was last night, and he could even (eventually) laugh off looking like an LSD version of an 80's transvestite. But the fact Damon had not only taken pictures, but sent them back to him was too much. Desperately hoping he'd seen wrong in all his hungover glory, Alaric snatched his cell off the sofa and looked again.

Too bad.

It was even worse than he'd initially grasped. The first was of him hamming it up, blowing a kiss for the camera - obnoxious red lipstick included. The next, a shot of him grabbing either side of a terrified Jeremy's head as he puckered while Elena laughed in the background.

Wait, he didn't even remember seeing them last night. What else did he do other than drink with Damon?

Quickly clicking the next picture, Alaric felt a rush of anger strong enough to push back the nausea.

"Well done, Damon..." He threw his phone back on the couch and headed for the shower while the internet meme of the Trollface stared up from the screen. "You dick."

 

Updated: 3rd April 2020 - 21:15