The Next Morning...

Pain. Intense, pounding pain threatening to blow your skull to bits, a horrifying, nauseating pain ready to spill out your guts in a wave of vomit. Pain from all over your body, from... whatever the hell you did. It's all a blur, really.

Seeing as it's your day off, you consider spending the entire day in bed, not moving, waiting for the sweet release of ****. Unfortunately, consciousness soon

"Jack," Ben groans from his bed.

"What?" you ask, gagging as you smell the vomit dripping from his bed to the floor.

"We're friends, right?"

"Yeah."

"I need a favor."

"If it involves me moving in any way, you can fuck off," you reply, trying to keep from shitting yourself.

"It's only a small thing. I need you to get my pillow, and smother me to ****. End my suffering."

You make a halfhearted attempt to grab the nearest pillow so you can **** the shit out of him, but give up as you realize you can't reach over to him. Then, you give up, and wait for **** again.

Unfortunately, the smell of the others' vomit soon forces you out of your bed, and you manage to scrounge together enough of a uniform to get dressed, stumbling to the bathrooms. After about an hour of expelling all your bodily fluids, you feel like a bloated corpse stuffed with feces, which is to say, better than you did when you woke up.

Eventually, after sufficient time spent expelling waste and trying to re-hydrate, you feel good enough to clean yourself up. You shower and get dressed properly, and at that point you're feeling good enough to briefly consider eating again in the next two to five years, before vomiting again. After that, you're left with the whole day to yourself, which is a nice change of pace.