(Note: This was written by my friend, and is more in the style of the Arby 'n the Chief episode, "Party".)
The Hangover
I woke up with a splitting headache.
I was in my room in Blue Base, with the world's biggest headache, on my bed, and hearing Justin Beiber and Lonely Island in the background. I keep telling Caboose to not play his records in the base.
I slowly stand up, wondering what the heck is wrong with me. Then the peices click. No memory of last night, world's biggest headache. I'm on a hangover. Which doesn't make since, since I'm not an achoholic. That's Tucker, not me.
Okay, I admit I've been drunk before (Tex), but that doesn't change the fact that I've been sober ever since I reached this canyon. So why am I on a hangover?
I walk into the living room, and they're is the pair of teal boots that I've been looking for. Tucker's been buried under a mountain of pillows. I walk over to him, kick him.
"Ah, man," Tucker mutters as he rolls to the floor. "Don't kick me, I wasn't drinking as much as you were last night."
"Drinking," I mutter, turning toward the kitchen. The base is a mess. Beer stains, orange juice stains, the door to Caboose's room is broken open, and someone barfed in a corner.
As I stumble into the kitchen, I see some Beer Cans by the overturned table.
"Wow," I say, "I can't believe you talked me into that."
Tucker grins. "Never underestimate the Tuckermeister."
"So what- ahhhh." I turn back to the pillows.
Tucker laughs.
"Man," I mutter, "you can't leave good enough alone, can you?"
"Nope," Tucker says, "and remeber when Grif got angry?"
He points toward Caboose's wrecked door.
I can't help but laugh.
"That was one wild night."
