I'm so sorry... I was trying to avoid morbid pirate stories with a treasure map (see other story)
(Mine)
It didn’t matter who went first; within minutes of each other, both James and Frank were again side-by-side in the bathroom worshiping the white porcelain. This position was not unfamiliar for these two sophomores. Ever since being assigned as roommates on the first day of freshman year, they’d discovered a mutual love for drinking games. As their friendship blossomed over kegs, cases and forties, the drinking games got simpler and simpler. Now instead of cards or quarters, they simply chugged in turn… until one of them stumbled down the hall and unloaded. The second would never be far behind.
Between booting and flushing, James managed a weak smile at his un-drinking buddy. “We’ve got to stop this before we kill ourselves.”
Frank didn’t reply; he’d already passed out.
It was a common sentiment. Lately, as Frank had turned 21, these midnight games had become an almost daily occurrence. One or the other would vow to stop but it wouldn’t be three day before they again found themselves in what had become “the J&F stall” right by the bathroom door.
This time, James was serious. The next morning, as he loaded up on aspirin and orange juice, he decided that he, they, needed to get away. College life simply surrounded them with too much beer and stress, both factors that snowballed into those miserable nights. A road trip to the country would be perfect; maybe even a visit to his tee-totaling grandparents and a month of no drinking would set them straight. They were already failing their classes, stopping out would be no big deal academically.
By the time Frank came back from the shower, grimacing at his own hangover, James had already planned a route from LA through Utah and all the way into Texas. He was feeling better already. Convincing Frank took all of two minutes; he agreed to anything when he couldn’t think straight.
That afternoon as James got back from working things out with his professors, Frank had already gotten started on his own favorite hangover cure: an ice-cold forty. He opened one for his roommate. James took one look at the proffered beer, the dopy “buzzed” grin spreading up his friend’s face and went over to his desk. He resigned. Taking the beer, he tore the map in two and let the pieces fall to the floor.