(Before I start, the story must remain in the third person. Any second or first person chapters will be edited to be third person)
If one has felt a migrane before, then you know you never want to experience a pain like that ever again. However, a migrane is nothing compared to a hangover.
Conker slowly opened his eyes, but doing so sent bolts of pain through his head, so he shut them again. Lazily, he brought his paws to his head and rubbed it hard, trying to stop the pain flowing through his skull. If he were to tell someone how he was feeling, he'd surely say "like a badger's ass". The pain was unbearable and virtually undescribable. How could one describe the pain Conker was feeling? There was no word for it.
As he moved a bit, hazy memories flowed through his mind, but the only thing he could remember clearly was going to his favorite pub, still depressed over the loss of Berri, his former girfriend who was on the wrong end of a Tommy gun. After that, things were a drunken blurr.
Finally, he gathered the courage to open his eyes, but not before expelling some of the poisen inside him through his mouth. The acidic taste of his vomit littered his mouth and he wanted nothing more than to get the taste off his tongue. As his bloodshot eyes finally opened up, the squirrel took a look at his surroundings.
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