A short story I cooked up over the weekend while I had nothing better to do.

Basically it stars a nondescript and for most of the story nameless male character who wakes up in a sketchy situation with a nasty hangover. If he has any hope of getting out of this mess, he will have to retrace his steps from the previous night.

Kinda half assed, but should be worth some laughs.
(Disclaimer) I have never smoked cereal and I will absolve myself of any responsibility for anyone who tries to replicate the events of this work of fiction

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Finally exiting the warm embrace of sleep, I awoke to a hangover worse than any I had experienced in my life. While trying to massage away the head splitting pain that was washing over me, I found my arms restrained in confining cloth sleeves. Opening my eyes, I was for a brief instant relieved when I was met with pitch-blackness rather than the morning sun. Of course the fact that I could not move my arms snapped me out of this ever so transient calm. In a voice of half fear and half anger, I called out to see if any one was there. Not to my surprise, I received no answer. With more anger in my voice, I demanded from whoever would hear it, "Where am I!"

As if to answer my demand, a small sliver of light cut through the abundant darkness. It was coming from a small window about five feet of the ground and about eight inches in its dimensions. I squinted my eyes to discern who had given some illumination to my strange predicament. I could just barely tell that it was a corporeal figure, never mind determining it's race or gender. In a tone of voice that sounded not unlike the actress Meryl Streep, she replied, "You are in Black Forest State Hospital."

My eyes having adjusted to the light, I now see the reason why I could not move my arms earlier. To my great chagrin, I had awoken in a strait jacket. Of course this was not a strait jacket used by magicians to manipulate the attentions of their audiences. This jacket was built for the sole purpose of containing the uncontrollable. The sleeves were fed through a loop on my lower chest, so short of being able to shrink my body down to the size of a newborn, there was no way to slip out of this. The only other article of clothing I was wearing besides the confining jacket, was a thick diaper that would be impossible to hide under any amount of clothing.

With my eyes having adjusted to the light, I could now see that the one who had opened the small window was a nurse at this facility. While she had the good looks of a young vixen, her voice had the satirical wisdom that one would expect from ones grandparents. Continuing her mater of fact statement of my situation, the nurse states, "You were brought her by the cops under suspicion of mental illness. When they arrested you for disorderly conduct, you were acting in a unhinged manner, so they decided to leave you in a place where you could not harm yourself or others." After giving some time for her words to settle in, she continues, "Our psychologist, Dr. Faustal will be visiting with you in a few minutes to determine your condition. Till then just relax, and don't do any thing stupid."

As she turns to leave, I make a frantic demand not to be left in darkness again. Of course my demands fall on deaf ears and the darkness returns. I spend the next minute or two 'testing' the restraints that I had awoken. Eventually I give up and settle down in the same position I had awoken in. With nothing to do while waiting for the good doctor, I set about the nearly impossible task of piecing together the events of the previous night.

The events that had led to my current predicament started innocently enough. Rob, a good friend, of mine had just bought Modern Warfare Two and had invited a fox, a coyote and myself over to try it out. He also had a large supply of alcohol, which he was quite willing to share with the four of us since we were all childhood friends. After killing each other in multiplayer for about an hour, Dave came up with a 'brilliant' idea. It was decided that whenever anyone got a kill, they had to down a shot of Jack Daniel's. Since each of us was already a little buzzed, it seemed like a perfectly logical idea.

Several hours and several shots later, our avatars on screen were a reflection of our drunken states. As our blood alcohol levels increased, so did the time between each of us scoring a kill. Eventually it reached the point where we were just laughing at how comically bad our aims were. After a long span of time with no kills we gave up our little game and switched on comedy central. While watching a segment of the Colbert Report on tasers, the four of us realized that our collective buzz was wearing off. While I suggested the more conventional approach of simply downing more whiskey, Rob said that he had a better idea.

At this point in the night if one of us had been sober, Rob's voice would have been reason enough not to indulge him. This combined with the huskies tendency to unknowingly push his limits should have raised alarm. Of course, since we were all sloppy drunk, the three of us simply followed Rob into the kitchen. With theatrical flourish, he presented his brilliant idea; smoking cereal. What few statements of how absurd his idea sounded were quickly put to rest with flimsy arguments that one would expect from a religious apologist. With slayer blaring from the living room, the four of us gathering some frosted flakes. Next Rob asked to borrow my shoe to crush up the cereal into a fine powder. Why he needed to do this will most likely never be known.

After containing the powder in some rolling papers we happened to have around, the four of us engaged in a drunken discussion as to who would try Rob's 'brilliant' idea. A few minutes later, and after some unintelligible conversing and gloating, I decided to be the guinea pig. With a Zippo lighter in hand, I nervously lit the experimental cigarette. Pausing for a few minutes as I over came my last inhibitions, I looked at the burning cigarette wonder whether this is a good idea.

With a little more gloating from my friends, I took a tentative puff of the burning flakes. Strangely enough, the smoke did not burn my throat on the way down. It also had a better aroma than the various blends of weed we had tried. For several seconds that seemed to last an eternity, nothing happened and we all felt a little let down. While looking at the three furs waiting to join the little experiment, I felt a strange calm settling over me. This of course was shattered when whatever hallucinogenic compounds were present in frosted flakes suddenly took effect.

The drunken stupor, which had previously held a firm grip, was replaced with hysterical fervor. Through the haze, I could hear my friends asking what was happening and whether I was all right. After giving them quick and hallow answers, I ran out of the house shouting "Come on guys lets go swimming." My last sight of them on that night was their concerned faces. I spent the next portion of the evening terrorizing the neighborhood. Nothing that resulted in injury for any one or even noticeable property damage, but more than enough to be the talk of many office parties to come.

My irrational behavior, combined with the noise blaring from my friend house had to no ones surprise attracted the attention of the cops. Its funny how quickly cops show up for noise complaints as opposed to home invasions. Anyways, I wound up threatening the cops that showed up with a reflective driveway marker that I had absconded with in my benign rampage. Given how I acted in front of them, it is a wonder that I did not get dusted off.

The ever so brief stalemate was broken when one of the cops pulled out a taser and made me ride the lightning. The sudden jolt brought me out of my high and crashing back down to earth. I fell flat on my ass and entered an exhausted, semi-conscious state. The only things I remember between terrorizing the neighborhood and waking up in Black Forest, was a series disjointed and brief images inter-spaced with blackness. Images of my swearing at the arresting offices in their squad car, being dragged through nondescript hallways, and being fitted with a strait jacket by muscle bound orderlies.

As I returned to the sobering reality facing me, I heard the locking mechanism on the door activating. As I sit up in the direction from which the shaft of light had originated, the door opens nearly blinding me. Luckily I did not have a tail, so my actions did not look too awkward. After a few seconds of seeing nothing but a big white blur, my eyes start to make out three shadowy figures blocking my only exit. Of course, if I had tried to escape, I would have confirmed my captor’s suspicions about me.

In a bemused and conversational tone, the center figure replies, "Hello there, I'm Dr Faustal and it Looks like you had a little too much fun last night, Mr Edwards." My eyes having adapted to the light, I can now tell that the speaker is a good-looking and well-toned brown bear. With an easy on the eyes and friendly doctor, things are starting to look up. To his left and right are two orderlies; bulls that look like they moonlighted as bouncers or pit bosses. The expressions on their bovine muzzles simply stated that they took crap from no one.

With a noticeable blush, and a sheepish expression, I replied, "Yeah, I guess I have a lot of explaining to do." After a light chuckle, the good doctor replies, "Don't worry, as long as your story matches with the blood work we took from you and the statements from your friends, I'd say your stock is rising. Now please follow me, or Taurus and Dietrich will have to treat you like you truly are insane."

Long story short, after giving my lengthy explanation to Dr Faustal, I was released to the local police. My stay among them was brief, because my friends had were able to pay the small bail set on my release. Considering the lack of physical damage I had done, and the sympathy the judge and jury had for my predicament, the trial progressed relatively quickly. Since there was a lot of evidence against me, I opted to plead guilty. After a short time, I was given a small fine as punishment for my drunken actions. My encounter with the legal system over, I got on with my life with a few exceptions. First of which, I never smoked cereal again, and the second, I cut back on my drinking binges to five drinks instead of the usual six.