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Stan knew he was fucked. He really didn't want to be saying that so often now as he used the word fuck so much, by comparison it was.loosing it's meaning.
There was a huge difference you see, between 'Fuck I failed that screenshot' and 'Fuck I had a heated moment with a stranger.
He groaned as he eventually managed to grasp the strength the pull himself out of bed, his head burning with the nightmare that was the previous night. So this is the conseqences of drinking alcohol He thought to himself as he dragged himself to the bathroom, trying not to vomit on the stairs. Hangovers aren't aesthetic as films say they are.
He purposefully kept the light of as he (barely) made it to the bathroom, so he would accidently catch his hideous face in passing and collapse in shock. He tried not to pass out as he pulled his shirt over his head, his complete lack of stability becoming an issue, as there was no way in fuck he was shouting for help if he fell now, he'd rather die slowly on the wet tiled floor with the towels than having to be dragged out by a team of paramedics who would also have to de-tangle him from his clothes.
However he confirmed his first theory that his brain must've of been replaced with a broken printer as he broke his first bathroom rule (oh yes they're many, feel free to pre-order Stanley's book 'Crisis On The Toilet' for me details) as he caught his reflection in the dirty mirror. This time he didn't almoat faint due to the sheer horror of seeing the *shudder* pale the *shudder* backne. No it was worse, much worse. Printed across his skin were several numbers, a phone number beneath the purple bruises on his chest, stomach and neck.
Stan's initial wasn't as calm as you'd hope. This was a perfect fuck moment on Stan's biggest fuck ups in his life, this was a FUCKKKKKK I GOT A SHIT TATTOO WHILST DRUNK!
Only to later realize, it was infact a sharpie and that was infact a phone number. See Stan was a little slow this morning and by the time he had put two and two together the shower had already flooded. Crashmat had been smart.
Unless this was another Richie joke, which by nature of being his friend was always a possibility. With every breath of his life he found himself asking, was this a Richie joke? Locked out of your house? Is this a Richie joke? Suprise test? Richie...is that you behind the curtain? A weird virus sends the world into chaos? Richie, get out from there I know it's you.
Conflicted with his last two functioning brian cells, Stan knew there was only one person he could help...also his parents were dragging him to see them anyway, he might as well kill two fish with one stone (birds are beautiful creature compared to those gilled demons, that he's hated evee since his pet parrot died when it ate his dad's goldfish straight for the tank. From that day onwards he vowed to avenge...Bessy)
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Stan could hear the 'Final Countdown' By Europe blasting through the corridor as he got closer to the room.
