Subtitle The Hangover Page

He was sprawled on a floor that smelled faintly of pine cleaner and regret. Around him, the remnants of the night lay like a battlefield: a single silver loafer, a half-eaten burrito, and a literal traffic cone wearing a tuxedo vest. This was the aftermath—the living definition of .

"Define 'illegal,'" Leo said, "and maybe pass me that burrito. We have a lot of explaining to do before the church bells ring." subtitle The Hangover

The sun didn’t just rise; it interrogated Leo’s retinas. He was sprawled on a floor that smelled

I can pivot this toward a thriller twist or make it even more absurd if you'd like. "Define 'illegal,'" Leo said, "and maybe pass me

"The wedding is in four hours," Jax whispered, peeling off the goggles. "And I have a receipt in my pocket for... three dozen inflatable flamingos?"

Leo sat up, his brain feeling three sizes too large for his skull. "Guys?" he croaked.

Leo looked at the traffic cone, then at the trophy, and finally at the "Just Married" sash draped over Jax’s shoulder.