Tuesday morning rolled around a bit too early and Hal found himself waking up on his bed (which he’d slept atop like Snoopy, not within) looking rather closely at an empty green can of Carlsberg beer about two inches away from his nose. He sat up slowly, grumbling and scratching his head, and the moment he got his bearings he was immediately grateful he had stopped drinking last night after just a few beers. He was already feeling much too confused, disordered and disgruntled to successfully bear the weight of a morning hangover, despite having had years of practice along those lines. 

Hal swung his legs over one side of the bed and sat there for a moment of contemplation, in nothing but t-shirt and shorts, before deciding to splash some wate...

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