Oh god. Drinking sucks. Parties suck. My friends suck. Everything sucks. Zinniah gagged a little at the taste that still lingered at the back of her throat, and at the cold feeling that seemed to take over her stomach.

This fry-up sucks. And she pushed a little bit around with her fork, trying to make the banger stick without sliding off from its oils. Finally, she succeeded, and the taste of it was surprisingly welcome, considering the current state of her body.

It was the first hangover Zinniah had ever experienced in her life.

And it wouldn't happen again.

Not in a million years.

She'd never drink again, either.

Not in a trillion years.

Zinniah stuffed a piece of potato in her mouth and leaned listlessly on her upturned palm, eyes cast pitifully to a nondescript corner of the room. "Oh, Zinny," she told herself aloud, mouth slightly full, "you're such a liar."