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PARALLEL UNIVERSE: 4:45 A.M SUNDAY

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(He comes to in dark room. Turns on the light. The clock reads 4:45 a.m. It's Sunday, September 16th, 2007.)

Jesus, my mouth tastes terrible. Just awful. Like someone shaved a rat on it. You'd think a grown man would know better than to combine red wine, dollar jello shots, and jager bombs. But this grown man didn't. Need...water. Need...

Oh, fuck. Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck.

(A Michigan t-shirt sits on the floor. A pack of condoms sits on the nightstand. It has been opened.)

Oh, god. Oh, please, Lord. Not again. Not again. I thought this was the bottom. I know it's been a bad two weeks. I know I'm bad and need help, serious, serious help. If you're there, say I don't have to look. Please say this didn't happen.

(A groan comes from a bulky body on the bed next to him. The sheets stink of sin and the faint whiff of Bechamel sauce.)

Okay. Okay. It happened again. FUCK! Wait--I can accept that. Reality check. Courage. Like a Victor would.

I'm gonna look. One quick turn to the right and all. And you want to know the truth, right? It's better to know the truth, right? Because you'll feel better. Because you'll feel better. And it can't get worse than Appalachian State. It just...can't.

One...two...three...

NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

This may not happen. In fact, it probably won't. But when you find a gif(t) like that, you have to build it a gilded frame and hang it. The work of LSUFreek, commenter at TigerDroppings, who must be brilliant like the sun.