The room was eerily silent as a very short man dragged a folding chair up to a podium.
He climbed up on it and resurfaced just below the microphone. He looked incredibly tired, disheveled and dirty. Sporting two black eyes, a split lip, with half of his hair shaven completely off to make room for a tattoo of the symbol of the artist formerly known as The Artist Formerly Known as Prince.
“Hello. My name is Terry Lancaster. And I’m an alcoholic.”
The gang have been friends for years. Three of them have known each other since high school, the other two have been picked up along the way while at college.
There is nothing that these five friends haven’t done together. First, they tried to run a bar in a small corner of Philly. But when another bar showed up right next door to theirs called Paddy’s Pub, the gang had to call it quits and moved down to Miami, Florida. After that they experimented with various other scammy business ideas, ranging from dog-kidnapping, to old people day care centers, to BABER -the Uber Bed and Breakfast service.
However every single year the gang has upheld an annual tradition; The Ten Day Titan Marathon. For 10 straight days, the gang did nothing but hop from bar to bar, living off of peanuts and beer, trying to get as drunk as humanly possible. And after the 10 days were over, the one who was fucked up the least won the Golden Dildo trophy (which one the gang had previously drunkenly purchased off of craigslist).
This year however…something went terribly, horribly wrong. And somehow, only after 5 days of straight drinking, the gang was nowhere to be found.
Nowhere in Miami at least.
All five of them had ended up in India. They have absolutely no idea what happened or how they have gotten there. Or why there is a goat in the room sporting a bride’s veil, or why one of them has ten missed calls from Hugh Jackman. All they know is that they have a massive hangover and absolutely no money to get back home to Florida…
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