the hangover pt II-phil wenneck

four

"This is a waste of time, I don't remember anything. Do you?" Phil whispers, all of you sitting in a line as you meditate with the other monks. You always thought mediating was a load of bullshit after you tried it a couple of times in your life. Something about sitting there cross-legged with your eyes closed and some weird music makes you feel uncomfortable, doing the opposite of what it's supposed to do. And it sure as hell wasn't going to make you remember what you did last night when you were definitely drugged with something hard-core and probably plastered.

"Nothing. Stu?" you ask, knowing he's sitting on your other side.

"No. I got nothing. Alan?"

"Alan?" Phil repeats after you get no response from Alan, the three of you opening your eyes to see him fully invested into meditating to the point where he apparently can't even hear you guys.

"I know where to go," he says, his eyes shooting open.

"Great, maybe you can actual be useful for something this once," you mumble.

—

"What do you think, Alan?" Phil asks, the four of you standing outside a strip club.

"Uhh, this is the place," Alan says.

"C'mon, let's go," Phil says, tapping Alan's shoulder before you all walk in through the door. God, there better actually be something here and you all not just in this place for Alan's pleasure.

"I don't remember any of this!" Stu yells, all of you awkwardly standing at the entrance.

"Yeah, Alan, are you sure this is the place?" Phil asks.

"Yeah, pretty sure!" Alan says, the three of you following Alan as he walks own the middle row, looking over at the strippers dancing on poles on either side of him.

"Bros, finally! Is he comin', or what? I've been waiting all day for him," some random guy says as he leans against one of the platforms, standing behind a desk. You assume he's the one in charge of this place. The pimp, if you will.

"I-I'm sorry, waiting for who?" Phil asks as you all slowly approach him.

"Chow, that dick-ass fuck," he says, you, Phil and Stu looking at each other with wide eyes.

"Why, what's wrong?" the guy asks, noticing your sudden facial change.

"Nothing! Nothing's wrong!" Phil says.

"Okay, good. Look at this. Look what I bring for him. Check it out. Huh? Huh?" he asks, putting something on the desk in front of him before he unfolds the towel around it, revealing a gun.

"No, no, no, no," Phil quickly says.

"$6,000 American," he says.

"Wow, it looks so real," Alan chuckles., picking it up.

"Alan, don't—" your warn is cut off by the gun firing into the roof, all the girls screaming as the rest of you try to duck down as cover yourselves.

"Sorry! Sorry," Alan says once the firing stops, standing back up properly.

"Alan! What the fuck?!" Phil yells, the three of you also standing back up.

"It's okay! It's okay. The gun, very sensitive. Everybody okay?" the guy asks, turning back towards the girls all nodding.

"Okay! Then get the fuck back to work! Come on, music, please!" he yells, the music starting back up as they begin to dance again.

"Who has my $6,000 dollars?" he asks, getting back to business.

"No, no—6 thous?—no, no. That's Chow's deal. We got nothing to do with that," Phil says.