That Night

That Morning

As I fluttered my eyes open to bothersome bright lights and a highly bothersome ringing in my ears, I instantly wanted to close them again. My head was pounding, my eyes were burning... was I sick or something?

And why was I in what looked like the café?

"Morning, Mayor!" I heard someone say behind me. It sounded like they were yelling, so I quickly covered my ears. "I wasn't sure when you were going to wake up, but it looks like you're doing okay now. You had it rough last night, anyways."

From the sound of his voice, I knew it was Brewster talking to me. I tried to open my eyes again, only to see something blue and blurry hovering above me. I swatted my hands over my face, trying to push the mysterious thing away.

"Looks like someone needs a cup o' morning coffee!" the pigeon added, attempting to avoid my fit of confusion. He shuffled behind the bar and started moving something, but I couldn't tell what it was.

At some point, I had to stand. Reaching my hands out to grab on to whatever was in front of me for support, I attempted to pull my limp body off of the hardwood floors of the dirty café. For some reason, I actually thought I would be strong enough to stand up. I, of course, was very weak, and with a hard thud, I let myself fall back onto the ground. One point for my hangover—none for me. I tried a second time—two points for the hangover. Then three, then four...

I was up to 7-0 by the time I finally managed to drag myself from the floor—with some help from Brewster, that is. Technically, you could consider that cheating, but it's not like I was in the middle of the Annual Fishing Tournament against my headache or something.

Since I couldn't really walk on my own for the time being, I stumbled into a bar stool and leaned back so far that I almost fell out of it. My eyes tried to close again (I was really tired, okay?), but they were quickly awakened to the sound of coffees being brewed.

"...and that's it for the coffee makers!" Brewster cheered, clasping his hands together. "I think I know what you want, Mayor, but I was dishing out beers instead of blue mountain brews last night, so I might need a refresher."

I dropped my head onto the counter. "I have a headache, can we just talk later?" I shot back at him. I was feeling pretty miserable. "I just... want to sleep right now."

"Come on, Mayor! You need your coffee. Haven't you ever heard someone say, 'Don't talk to me until I've had me coffee'? It's like what you just said!"

I moaned. "I don't care."

"Trust me, Mayor. You'll like what I can make."

"I'm not even thirsty!"

"Just let me make you something, Mayor! I have no customers yet! I'm bored!"

I decided that fighting in my condition wouldn't be worth it. "I give in," I sighed. Another point for my hangover—I was losing hard. "Mocha, so-so... what else?"

"Sugar...?"

"Two... three spoons, actually."

Though I was more tired than ever, I lifted my head gently to watch what Brewster was making. Same old, same old, I thought to myself. Actually, I normally do with a lot of milk and 1 lump of sugar, but... should I bug him about it?

As annoyed as I was leaving my typical order wrong, I was still too dreary to sit up anyways. Another point for my no-good hangover.

Damn, hangovers suck.

At this point, it had been years since I had been overtaken by a hangover this bad. It's not like anyone was running an alcohol shop in the city, let alone in any other nearby towns. To compare this hangover to any others i've had, though, would be impossible—this was by far the worst hangover yet, and I still wasn't even sure why I was having it. I was just so fatigued, and there was no explanation for it...

Suddenly, Brewster dropped a steaming cup in front of me. "Your coffee!" he exclaimed, leaving it to sit and cool on the counter. "Mocha, so-so, two spoons of..." His expression changed. "Of course!" he sighed. "You changed it to three scoops! I knew I left something out!"

"No, two is... I really don't care," I complained. Miserably, I added,v"Do I have to drink it now?"

Brewster pushed the cup towards me ever so slightly. "Just drink it. You'll feel better if you do! Trust me!"

I was tempted to punch it off the table, but again, my arms were just too tired. I dreadfully picked up the cup and tried to drink it by pouring it straight down, only to spill it all onto my already stained shirt.

Another fucking point for my hangover.

"Coo, Mayor! You must be really fatigued!" Brewster shouted, rushing to grab some paper towels from the back. "Let me help you with that..."

I glanced down at my shirt. It used to be white, but that color was long gone. There were spills and stains in all kinds of colors-yellow, brown, orange, even something that was green. I was so confused on how my shirt was this dirty. Did I accidentally trip into a collage of ugly-colored paints?

"...Brewster?" I sighed, now breathing deeply. "What... what happened last night?"

The pigeon, who was still cleaning the coffee stain from his perfectly shiny counter, started laughing. "Right!" he chuckled. "You probably don't even remember the party last night! I tell ya, Mayor, you were out cold after your 8th shot, and nobody knew what to do with you, so they dragged you over to the counter and you slept like a baby all night! I mean, you didn't cry or anything, but—"

"Shots?" I shouted. I didn't remember having any alcohol last night! Had I been out drinking? And how could I have passed out in The Roost when I didn't even remember being here before today?

At that exact moment, it all hit me.

The party, the beers, the dancing, the villagers...

...that stupid fucking kiss.

For a few seconds, everything froze. I still didn't have a clue who I kissed last night!

I was so lightheaded, I felt like I was going to pass out. As everything came back to me from the previous night, I started cursing under my breath. How could I let myself be so... so stupid? I thought to myself, annoyed. God! Why me?

"You know what?" I angrily exclaimed. "I don't need coffee. I don't need coffee, or good clothes, or... hell, the only thing I do need is some weeds and a fucking wasp's nest to make some medicine! To hell with last night!"

Brewster stared at me, dumbfounded. "Mayor... I didn't know you could shout like that," he whispered, startled by my recent claim.

"What time is it?"

"Clock's up there, Mayor," Brewster replied, pointing at the wall behind me.

"Just tell me what time it is, please!"

"Okay, Mayor, it's... 10:42. Does that help?"

"Actually, I have places to be right now," I sighed, suddenly feeling more awake. "Do you have a shirt I can borrow?"

"Another white one? Of course I do!" Brewster explained, reaching under the counter. "As a backup for when you spill coffee on your shirt, which you just did. Good timing!"

He tossed me the shirt, which I missed, and frantically jumped out of my chair to get. I quickly slipped my old, greasy shirt off and pulled the new one on. "Thanks," I said, eager to head out. "My pants still look like crap, but I can buy new ones later." I shuffled towards the door with a new sense of determination for the morning and a much stronger headache from the screaming.

"But Mayor! What about your coffee?" Brewster yelled, with a new brew in hand.

"I don't need any," I sighed. "I'm going to the Able Sisters. I have to have a word with Mabel and Sable."