Chapter 1 - Every Fucking Time

Through crusted-over eyes, Pooh first caught sight of the spinning ceiling fan, sending him straight to the center of a hangover-fueled tornado he didn't want (but well expected) to be in. He turned his head to the left. 

Piglet lay gently snoring, contributing a crystalline pool of drool to Pooh's 600-thread count Egyptian cotton pillows. 

He turned his head to the right and there was Minnie, naked and sprawled like a yard sale across the other third of the bed. 

On the nightstand, the coke-dusted mirror, a cut-off McDonald’s straw, and about a quarter inch of salvation left in the bottle of Belvedere they'd cracked at exactly 11:27p.m. the night prior.Every time with the vodka, thought Pooh. 

Every. Fucking. time.