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Jack yawned as he flushed the toilet, pulling out his earphones and turning off his Zune as he opened the bathroom door, looking at the carnage that was the crash pad. Stepping over a half naked girl, he walked to the master bedroom, the source of the screaming of breakfast food. He was more of an egg person, but it was the thought that counted.

Jack was a tall figure, standing roughly 6'3 with a skinny but muscular complex, with long brown hair that came down past his shoulders. He currently wore a black tank top and white camo cargo pants, his boots lying safe beneath a couch with the rest of his valuables, beneath a floor board. One thing he had learned quickly in his life style was to always hide the boots. People had a nasty habit of throwing up in them, otherwise.

Walking into view to find no eggs, nor bacon, he was slightly dismayed. Shrugging, he leaned against a wall as he smiled towards Mel, scratching his scalp, his long brown hair moving back and forth from the motions.

"What's up, Mel? I suspected you to be out for at least another 4 hours."

He had met Mel a while back, and she had seemed like a nice enough girl. Granted, she had her flaws, but who didn't? The important thing was that her demons hadn't taken her completely.

Walking up past 3 men passed out amidst a deck of playing cards, he sat on a chair as he tilted his head, looking up at her.

"By the looks of things, you had too much to drink. Want me to make my sobriety cocktail for you? I figured this would happen again, so I have an extra bottle in the fridge."

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This will be one of my last weeks here before I take out all the stakes and leave here. Anyone who wants to get in contact with me afterwards, message me.

The dream Ella had been greatly enjoying, was abruptly brought to an end with the cry of eggs and bacon. Rolling over to the spot Melrose had left, she glared angrily up at the ceiling. Ella was still wearing the clothing she had on last night for the concert, one of her better pairs black jeans and black tee shirt. Grabbing a pillow, she buried her face in it, and attempted to go back to sleep.

What ever the dream had been she lost it, and the thought of going back to sleep was, quickly abandoned. Ella sat up, with a jerk, throwing the pillow as she rose. It had only been partially aimed a Mel, just enough to show the consideration of trying to hit her with it. Ella gave her an exaggerated smile, before turning her attention to the rest of the room. The party had not been that fun for her, considering every seemed content on getting drunk.

Ella's head was throbbing but not from a hangover, she had only taken the smallest courtesy sip of the tequila, but form the lack of sleep. she had forced herself to be on of the last ones awake, at least in this room, and she felt that she had only slept for a few minutes "so, yaa," Ella muttered swaying a little side to side. Mornings were not her thing, nor were afternoons, in fact she preferred to skip the whole getting up thing. " and wheres that bacon" Ella mumbled more to herself than the other two, as she swung out of bed, accidentally stepping on some one in the process.

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In the consciousness of the truth he has perceived, man now sees everywhere only the awfulness or the absurdity of existence and loathing seizes him.
-Friedrich Nietzsche

Dreams fluttered through Dave's head, he couldn't tell what they are he'd lose them upon the foreclosure. But whatever it was, it caused him to mutter unintelligible ramble, mostly the cause of alcohol. After all, Dave was a self-professed alcoholic (professed by everyone else too), so it was no surprise the drink made him a little crazy.

Sure enough, the foreclosure came, albeit in a manner he wasn't accustomed to, nor did he find entirely desirable. What he knew was a foot as he saw it come away from his face, had just hammered him in the side of the head. He violently spat out a cigarette-butt as the foot impacted. "Alright...alright...I'm awake...fuckin'..." The rest was lost amongst mumble and mutter. He reached over and picked up his half-empty bottle of Wild Turkey brand whiskey, which he took a healthy (depending on one's perspective) swig of the liquid, ignoring the burn as it went down his throat to settle uncomfortably in the pits of his stomach.

He looked around, tired eyes in sockets scanning familiar surroundings that he couldn't remember all too well.
It was like that often, play, home, drink, fuck, sleep. If anything, he could thank who-ever and/or whatever for a simple life-style - as unhealthy as it was. He cleared his throat, swallowing back a gob-load of phlegm that had accumulated over-night. He stood up, taking another swig of his alcohol. He was definitely the least-dressed of the group, dressed in only a pair of cotton boxers and socks. "Ungh," he groaned as he stretched, taking a moment for the ensuing head-spin to waver and die before speaking, "What fuckin' time is it?" It was evident that he was agitated, being that he just took a foot in the face as a wake-up call and he was tired and cold. But he still had the drink, the drink made it all better...or so he liked to think.

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Jack looked to Dave for a moment as he gave a grin, taking a bottle of ibuprofen and throwing it his way before he turned to the closet across the way, grabbing a cheeto from a bag in a guy's hand, still passed out. It was quite the life style, to say the least.

"I'm taking one of your hoodies Dave, hope you don't mind."

He didn't wait for a response as he slipped the AC DC hooded sweatshirt on, zipping it halfway up before returning to the living room. He grabbed the small collection of his belonging as he slipped on his boots and jewelry (A pair of dog tags and an old siver ring, a gift from a friend) as well as grabbing his wallet, stuffing it into his pants pockets as he looked around.

Walking into the kitchen, he gave a small salute towards Mel as he opened the fridge, grabbing a sandwich he had hidden behind a can of tomato juice, eating quickly as he drank from a jug of skim milk.

"I'm heading out to the shop, ring me on my cell phone if you need me."

He double checked the bars on his phone as he spoke, nodding to himself before he turned to leave.

"Oh, and don't let Dave kill anyone while I'm gone. Call me before the cops, I don't want any officer killed."

He lifted his hand back in a sign of departure as he walked towards the door, quietly departing before even half of the guests had woken up.

__________________
This will be one of my last weeks here before I take out all the stakes and leave here. Anyone who wants to get in contact with me afterwards, message me.

Vince had actually not been there for most of the party that the other band members had had the previous night, and was nowhere near as hungover as most of them were. After about a half hour the others were too drunk to notice him at all, and when he got a text message from two of the girls who he frequently had "relations" with he had just left without being noticed and spent most of the night with playmates as he thought of them. He had gotten back to the apartment at about 11 that morning, and had fallen asleep instantly, exhausted from the long night's shenanigans.

Vince was a bit of a light sleeper, and when the Cheeto's bag that he must've walked in with and fallen asleep holding were moved as Jack grabbed one of the Cheetos out of it. With a grunt he opened his eyes and dropped the bag of Cheetos to rub the sleepiness out of them as he blinked and took in the scene around him. Everyone was practically naked, and Vince was fully dressed in the clothes he had worn to the concert. He felt out of place, especially since it was normal for everyone to be like this in the mornings. If it wasn't already obvious he had ditched them it had to be now, what other reason would there be for him still being dressed? He was caught, but didn't really care. He had had his fun for the night, and nobody would really care that he had left.

He got off the floor and with a yawn and a stretch walked over to the others and said, "Good morning everyone."

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"I PM? I shouldn't be up now." Dave stood groggily for a moment, gently and subtly swaying back and forth before putting the whiskey bottle to his lips again and drinking.
"But I'm up now...so fuck it."
Dave made his way to the bathroom, in typical fashion taking the bottle with him.

After finishing his morning business and flushing the toilet, he washed his hands and stood in front of the mirror...staring into bloodshot, dull orbs that sat in his skull, drinking the world's colours.
He imagined his reflection talking to him, When are you gonna give it up? You got dreams...aren't they good enough? You have to drown yourself with that shit? You're gonna die.

Dave shook himself awake, out of his day-dream. The word die resonated in his head, the walls of his mind playing tennis with his conscience. He grunted in response to himself before moving into his room to get dressed, only bothering with a pair of blue jeans and a wife-beater. He couldn't be screwed doing anything else.

He came out into the kitchen, opened up a cupboard to pull out a box of pills for hangovers.
He took two of them dry, he had wisely decided to leave his whiskey in the bathroom after his all to disturbing imagination. But of course, he'd reason with himself that it was just the effect of fatigue on a hungover mind.

Anyone who observed him - now seeing that he was slightly more awake - would notice a change in demeanor, he seemed more relaxed and collected. Which was hardly unusual.
"Someone say something about breakfast?"

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Ella leaned against the listening to the conversations, but feeling no need to comment. Her head was pounding viscously, so she closed her eyes and waited for it to pass. After a few more minutes, she left the master bedroom, and moved to the one she shared with Mel. Ella heard noise in the kitchen, and assumed that someone had taken the wake up call to seriously. Looking around, she felt something akin to disgust at all the people laying around the apartment unconscious.

In the bed room, she pulled out a fresh set of clothes, not paying to much attention to what see got. Everything was kind of just thrown in there so it was more of a challenge than one would have thought. Placing the cloths under her arm, she walked towards the bathroom.

Ella shook her head at Dave's whiskey and moved on to the bathtub/shower. Pulling back the curtains, Ella was surprised not to find someone passed out there. Next she pull out a towel, and placed it and her clothes on top of the toilet. Ella made sure the door was shut, then striped behind closed shower curtains and turned on the water.

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In the consciousness of the truth he has perceived, man now sees everywhere only the awfulness or the absurdity of existence and loathing seizes him.
-Friedrich Nietzsche