You wake up with a vicious hangover

The sun streaming through a filthy window wakes you and you rub your eyes and groan.

Your head feels like somebody stuck it in a carpenter bench vice and tightened it until your eyes were about to pop out. Drinking all that vodka might not have been your most brilliant idea.

Speaking of ideas, your computer still rests on your chest and you see, although blurily, that you've got some sort of spreadsheet as well as a dozen tabs open in your browser. What the heck were you doing last night?

{if minister = True}

It turns out, you're now an ordained minister... with The Universal Life Church. You also found a bunch of sites that explain the prosperity theology.

In the light of day... or darkness of your hangover, though, you're not so sure you can follow through with this idea. First, you're an introvert. Just the idea of having to stand in front of thousands of people sends you gagging to the bathroom. Fortunately you make it to the toilet before you vomit. Second, while you managed to persuade yourself that ripping off suckers was a good idea while you were drunk, you're pretty sure you won't be able to follow through with it unless you stay drunk.

And you never want to suffer a hangover like this again.

{else}

It turns out you must have been thinking about the whole prosperity preacher thing more seriously than you thought because you're now a certified minister with The Universal Life Church. Pretty cool. Still, you'll never be able to rip people off like those preachers do.

{endif}

There's more in your computer tabs.

There are a couple of scientific papers discussing the possibility that our universe is a simulation, a detailed explanation of how we are actually a 2D holographic projection rather than an actual 3D universe, and a lot of material on setting up streaming web services.

What there isn't is a response to any of your job applications.

You can't afford to stay in this shithole motel any longer so you call Jeremy again.

"Hey Jeremy, it's Mike."

"Hey bro. What's up?"

"Got a problem. Can I couch-surf with you for a while."

"Shit, you and Amber?"

"Uh, no. She dumped me."

"Hell. Here I thought you'd won the lottery when you got her. She's hot."

"Yeah, well, you can try to fuck her, then. It wouldn't bother me." (Much).

"Yeah, no. Not happening. Anyway, sure. I'll be home about eight. Swing by then."

Which leaves you the rest of the day to wander around homeless. Not a great feeling.