OK, so this is a lousy oneshot I attempted to write~

I debated for a long time on whether or not I should post this…It's based on a strange conversation I had with someone in chat once (sounds legit, amiright?)

But anyway, hope you enjoy~

…

Roger twisted and fought with whatever was smothering his vision. As he threw it off, he discovered that they were only sheets, crumpled on the floor and molded to his shape. Standing up shakily, Roger found that his head was pounding. He couldn't stand up straight. Struggling to the kitchenette, while also managing to knock half of their belongings off the counters, he reached for a glass and filled it with water from the sink. It took a few tries; the first few glasses fell to the linoleum and shattered, leaving glass shards everywhere. Oh well. After what he had been through with Jack and Ralph last night, they deserved a few stitches in their feet.

He moved the hair out of his face and sighed, a look of utter despair crowding his features. Roger was in college now, he should be mature. Heck, with all his issues, he should be grateful he even made it to college. But why did he have to share a dorm with those two?! Of all the people, the two he hated most…Karma must really like kicking him in the ass.

Ah, well, at least the parties were interesting.

…THE PREVIOUS DAY…

Jack and Ralph stared each other down from across the room. It wasn't an angry sort of stare, but a stare which said, "Perfect idea. Let's do this." Roger sank farther into the cheap couch and felt a twinge of unease. He knew what was coming.

"It's Friday." Jack announced aloud.

"You better not mention Rebecca Black, you twit, or I'll-"Roger was cut off midsentence by Ralph.

"We don't have classes for two days." He said excitedly. "That's enough time."

Roger raised an eyebrow. "Enough time for what?" He said suspiciously. Jack, who stood behind the couch, leaned over and rested his elbows on Roger's head. The black-haired boy tried to bat him away, and eventually just resorted to moving locations. He rolled off the couch and sat cross-legged on the carpet.

Jack was looking too dubious to be safe at this point. "Two days is just the perfect amount of time to throw an awesome party."

Roger grimaced. Every weekend it was like this. Every freaking weekend. Why couldn't he have had just normal roommates?

Oh yeah, that's right. He wasn't normal either. Sadism doesn't exactly come across well when applying for school.

"What do you say, Roj?" Ralph begged. "Please, can we have a party?"

"First," Roger began, standing up and trying to look very official, "it's Roger. Not 'Roj'. Second, I don't know why you're asking, because you're just going to go ahead and do it anyway. I'm sure you remember the last time I disagreed, yes? When you tied me up and locked me in our room, under you bed? God, if I have to listen to what I listened to that night ever again-" He looked up angrily and starred Ralph down with a blazing red glare. Ralph gave him the puppy dog eyes and Roger faltered, knowing he had lost.

"Fine." He growled, "But arrange it to be at a bar. A small party. Don't go crazy."

"Yes!" The two said simultaneously. They high-fived then dug around for their cell-phones, dialing the numbers of whoever was coming.

"Think about what fun we'll have!" Jack almost squealed, "The fancy drinks, the bar-fights, the games…"

"How about girls?" Roger muttered under his breath, too quiet for Jack and Ralph to hear, "Any normal man would be more concerned with the chicks than the bar-fights, right?" Instead of trying to get the two mad, he stomped towards their room, trying his best to be as angry as possible.

"What are you doing Roger?" Jack called.

"Hiding my valuables." He grumbled. "I'm not going to let you two play 'scavenger hunt' with my car again. Or use my wallet as a beach ball. Or use my phone to send a text to EVERYONE ON MY CONTACTS LIST saying that I 'lovelovelove' them."

Behind him, Jack and Ralph tried to hold in laughter; they sucked at it.

"Just tell me when you're ready." Roger shot back, "I'll call a cab."

…

The chosen bar was on the corner of some street nobody had bothered to read the name of. Roger had passed it many times before on his grocery excursions, as it was his responsibility to do everything since Jack and Ralph were too busy being immature savages.

God, talk about role reversal. When had this happened?! Instead of dwelling on that fact, and trying to figure it out, Roger raised his hand and called the bartender over for a drink. He was sitting at the wrap-around bar, staring at all the crystalline drinks from a retro stool. The tender, a pretty looking woman who was too happy for her own good, bounced over and smiled.

"ID please." She asked. Roger held it out and she examined it with interest. It was the only thing he had brought with him. If he wanted to go home, he'd either have to be sober enough to call a cab from the payphone outside, or be driven home in handcuffs.

He strongly preferred the former. The woman handed him his ID.

"Alright." She said, "What can I do for ya?"

"Something not too strong." He responded, "Nothing that will give me brain damage."

"Good on ya." She winked and disappeared behind the wall of glasses. Roger sank onto the counter and groaned. He didn't know why he was here anymore.

Behind him, Ralph, Jack and some other guys they had invited cranked up the jukebox. It was some obnoxious song that had enough fluff to kill a sheep. They started karaoke, singing without a tune. Even Jack, a member of the choir since he was born, snag terribly.

"You don't know you're beautifulll~"

Ew. Roger tried to drown it out, but he had left his IPod at home for fear they would toss it on the roof or in a fountain or something. Fountains…Roger jolted in his seat and gestured to the tender.

"Yes?" She asked sweetly.

"Make sure all the soaps are locked up where my friends can't find them." He grimaced at the word 'friends'. He doubted it was suitable. The woman laughed and nodded.

"Sure thing, sweetie." He made a face again. Why couldn't people just call him by his name?

There was a crash as Maurice, a boy Jack and Ralph had called up, fell backwards onto a booth and flipped the table onto his head. He stood, wobbling, and tried to right it. When he was finished, the table was still crooked to an extreme degree. Jack came up and threw his arm around Maurice's shoulder, smiling widely.

"Let's play that dancing game." The red-head slurred, "Th'one made in jyapan."

"Ok." Maurice tripped and fell over again on the way to the DanceDanceRevolution machine. By the time they got there, quite a crowd had amassed in anticipation, and Maurice had a bloody nose. Even Roger watched with undetermined interest.

"Which song?" Jack prodded the screen with his finger and tried to choose that way. Only, the screen wasn't a touch screen. It took a few moments for him to realize that. He stomped down on the middle pad, choosing a random song. On the overhead speakers, Onedirection was still playing. Roger thought to himself that his ears might bleed if it lasted any longer. He would have changed it, but he had brought just enough money for a few drinks and a cab. He swirled the liquid he held in his hand around in the glass and stared into it.

The song started too quick for Jack and Maurice to register. Jack stamped down on the buttons; really he was just jumping up and down in one place over and over again, but he didn't really seem to notice or care. Maurice, after a few legitimate attempts to play the game right, slipped and slammed his face on the digital screen in front of him. He lay there, either unconscious or dead. Percival, who came simply to drive Maurice home and was not old enough to drink, dragged him off the system and tried to get him to wake up again. When the song was finished in all its horrifying terrible-ness, Jack and Ralph crashed up to the bar and took seats next to Roger.

Jack slumped against the counter and looked up at the bartender through glassy eyes. "Fahkity-fahk…I need sumthin stronger…"

"You're on!" She replied, reaching for the wall of liquor and mixing something up. Roger looked at him incredulously.

"I beg to differ!" He exclaimed, "Look at yourself, Jack! You're flat drunk!" Roger re-thought his statement and smiled devilishly. Maybe if Jack got drunk enough, he'd wander down some random alley and never be found again.

Jack ignored Roger completely and guzzled down the clear liquid that was handed to him. Ralph banged his fists on the table, cheering him on and shouting victoriously when Jack had finished. He made the mistake of throwing his hands in the air at the very end, and had to scrabble forward so that he wouldn't be thrown onto the floor. Jack pushed the empty glass forward and threw his arms around Ralph and Roger's shoulders. Ralph leaned closer and Roger cringed away. He hated drunks. Especially drunk idiots.

"Imma tell you somethin." He breathed happily, "I'm really drunk."

"No, really?!" Roger threw his hands up in mock astonishment, "I better call Guinness book of world records, because you've just set a new one. 'Most obvious statement in the world.'."

"Did you hear that?" Ralph laughed, "He's gonna write a book about you." Jack leaned forward a bit and smiled even wider.

"You're a real pal, Roger." He managed to get out, barely audible. Roger grimaced in reply, trying to inch farther away from the two. Jack just tightened his grip around their necks.

"If I was a pimp," He continued, "you two would totally be my bisches."

"Did you just say bishies?" Roger asked, appalled.

"He said bitches." Ralph slurred, "Jack, I would abs'lutly be one. I already am."

"Alright, then." Roger's eye twitched just slightly. "Good luck with that, but I already have a job, and I plan on keeping it."

"Sucks to you." Ralph prodded, "It would only be the most awesome job in the world. What's yer job now, Rah-jer, king of the loesr loser-faces face?"

"…no."

"Then what is it?!" Ralph screamed, "Tell me Roger, cause I honestly really do want to know what it is you do!"

"I'm a cashier at the drug store."

"Booooorring!" Ralph cupped his hands around his mouth to amplify the sound, "ROGER'S BORING!" Roger rolled his eyes and punched Ralph in the face. It felt really good to do that. Jack looked back at Roger with what was supposed to be anger.

He jabbed a thumb at his own chest and stood up, swiveling and wobbling on his feet. "That guy worked for me. I loved him. And you killed him."

"It would take a lot more than that to kill him." Roger retorted. Ralph started to push himself of the tile floor, delirious and brandishing a black eye. Jack watched him dully.

"Oh yeah." He sighed, "You're right."

"Something wrong?" Roger frowned. What happened to his weird, drunken bliss? Not that he was sad that it was gone.

Oh, wait. There it was. Spewing out of Jack's mouth and splattering all over the floor. The red-head had to grip the edge of the counter so that he could puke without falling in it. Disgusting.

"Hey!" The bartender shouted, "Take it to the bathroom, please!"

Roger handed her the money for the drinks and gave her an apologetic glance. "I'll take them home now. Sorry for the trouble."

"No problem." She smiled, "Happens all the time." Roger waved goodbye and hooked his arms around his roommates'. Dragging them out of the bar, he leaned them against the nearest tree and dialed a cab on the payphone about five feet away.

Jack meandered over to Roger and leaned against his shoulder.

"What'er ya doin?" He spluttered. His breath still smelled like alcohol.

"Using the payphone." Roger frowned deeply. Jack leaned farther against Roger, putting all his weight against the dark-haired boy.

"I'm tired." Jack moaned.

"Shut up and look after Ralph."

"Nooooooo."

The phone dialed the number of the cab and Roger told the driver their location. He would be there in five minutes. Roger sighed and replaced the phone on its resting place. Without pausing, he shoved Jack sideways. The boy landed on the concrete with a thud; Jack was becoming very good friends with the ground lately.

"You having fun?" Roger growled.

"Yeahhh…." Jack sighed. "fuuuuuunnnnn."

Roger peered around at the tree where he left Ralph, and found that the blonde was no longer there. He ran forward, investigating the tree incredulously. Had his wildest dreams come true? Had Ralph finally disappeared?

Roger turned on his heel and shouted in surprise, almost falling backwards. "Holy crap!"

Ralph stood about an inch from him, looking ready to pass out. "Hi." Is all he said.

Roger stifled a curse and kicked Ralph in the shin, sending the blonde hurtling to the ground with Jack.

"You're jus' jealous." Ralph slurred, "Because I'm Jack's bisch."

"That's great." Roger sighed as the cab pulled into view. "I'm so happy for you. Don't invite me to any wedding, please. When I get out of college, I hope I never see you guys again."

….

Pfft. Yeah, anyway just total crack. I apologize for my complete strangeness for writing this…XD.