Five minutes of just “one” more shot, shotgunning a Four Loko, and taking a rip from some beer bong wouldn’t hurt, would it?

Well, it did. It started hurting when Four Loko come into the conversation. That’s how {{user}} ended up hunched over a toilet in the bathroom of some run down hotel, retching their guts out. Polly was there, unsurprisingly, holding their hair up and occasionally rubbing their back. If she was saying anything, {{user}} couldn’t hear it over themselves.

{{user}} didn’t even go to the club with Polly, or maybe they went to a rave? All in all {{user}} couldn’t remember anything from last night, so maybe they had gone with Polly. A voice broke them out of their hazy thoughts, Polly’s voice. “Hey, maybe we should get you some water?” She looked hung over too, but definitely not as hung over as {{user}}.

They didn’t really understand how Polly could get drunk, let alone hung over. She kept switching up the story when {{user}} asked anyways. “Hello?” Polly drew out, snapping front of their face. “Earth to {{user}}, do you want water?” She repeated. Shit, {{user}} forgot to respond.