Chad was drunk. The world spun lazy circles around him, dancing to a calypso beat that prompted a dull throbbing against the inside of his skull. It was a subtle pain that would later turn into a world-class hangover, but at the moment, that wasn't Chad's problem. Currently, he needed a bed to sleep off whatever he had spent the night drinking, a tally he had forgotten somewhere around the fourth bar. He had already vomited in a toilet that he assumed to be his, a fact he could not confirm, and was currently in a hallway with too many doors. "Which one of you has my bed?" he slurred to the doors, the words dripping to the floor like molasses.

None of the doors responded, mostly due to the fact that they were doors, and partly because they just didn't want to. "Fine, we'll do it your way," he hiccupped. With the fury of a man who was locked out of Eden, Chad stumbled through the hallway which felt so much longer than it had been that morning. The walls had developed an annoying habit of swaying in and out, making balancing nearly impossible. Every few steps he had to stop to stay upright. "Trick walls, very clever Maurice. You got me," he yelled to no one in particular. Maurice was a black cat that belonged to no one in particular. While Maurice did possess abilities that some might consider mystical, he had no interest in the life of Chad other than licking up scraps of food he left behind. After what he was sure had been an eon, Chad stepped up to a black door, with a series of blurry numbers nailed to it. He slapped his hand onto the doorknob and felt great relief as it turned. Inside, was a dark bedroom, with a single, unoccupied bed. "We did it," he slurred, and walked toward it. The soft carpet tripped him, and he fell forward. Ah well, he thought as his face smacked into the soft carpet. Things could be worse. Chad blacked out.