Sheldon clutched hard at his seat while the bus swerved through the streets of Pasadena like a demented hippopotamus on LSD. The bus was almost empty, but nevertheless assuming that the best defense was a good offense, he glared with unblinking fury at the two teenage hooligan boys across the aisle. It took less than four stops before they exchanged uncomfortable looks and moved to the back of the bus, along with their bubblegum and denim jackets.

The bus took a corner hard, almost hitting some drunken revelers who were busy turning the road into a debauched orgy. Stupid Leonard, he thought with irritation. Stupid party. Stupid New Year's Eve.

It was all Penny's fault, obviously. Most things were, really. Throwing a party for the New Year. What a piece of dagnabit nonsense. He snorted loudly, earning him a sideways glance from the driver.

"The road!" Sheldon yelled. "Look at the road! You, sir, are in dereliction of your duty!" It wasn't the first time the man had behaved in a manner utterly callous of the sacred duty pressed upon him by the Area Rapid Transit System of Pasadena to protect the life and limb of his passengers. Of Sheldon's own life and limbs, in fact. "I intend to write a letter to your superiors. A stern letter!"

The driver shook his head, but at least he went back to concentrating on the road. If I die, I'm going to blame Penny for this too. Ever since that blond catastrophe of a woman had become a constant presence in Leonard's life, Sheldon's had become vastly harder. And now, this! His roomate, his best friend, his boon companion, wouldn't even drive him from the university at two in the morning on New Year's Day, just because Penny had convinced him throwing a party might be "fun."

"Hrumph," he added. Fun!

#

"Will my trials never be over?" Sheldon asked. It was perforce a rhetorical question, unfortunately. Clearly, none of his so-called friends was in any condition to answer.

Opening the door to his apartment, Sheldon had found utter chaos. Crumbs coated the carpet, empty bottles and cans stood on every available space, bedraggled tinsel drifted from the ceiling, and there were people there. Sprawled, snoring, smelly, sedentary, supine, sleeping people.

In his spot. On the floor. On the armchair. In his spot.

Sheldon stepped over Raj, asleep on an air-mattress, and crouched beside his sanctum. He picked up the least sticky looking empty beer bottle from the coffee table and prodded the man asleep on the couch until he turned his head.

He almost fell back, shuddering with horror. Barry Kripke was asleep on the couch, and drooling on his spot.

Kripke. His spot. Drool. Kripke. What was wrong with the universe? He could feel it stretching out of shape around him, like vertigo.

"Oh good lord." This was too much. He would go to sleep, and in the morning he would make Penny clean it all up. And dry-clean his cushion. Again.

He stomped away from the tortured horror that his living room had become and into his bedroom, and almost screamed.

There was someone in his bed.

He turned and ran from the room, skidding in the hall and almost falling down. Knock, knock, knock. Leonard. There was no answer. Knock, knock, knock. Leonard. Knock, knock, knock. Leonard. Nothing.

Fine! He opened the door and frowned. That wasn't Leonard.

"Howard!"

Wolowitz woke up with a start, along with Bernadette next to him. "Sheldon, hi."

"What have you done to Leonard?"

"Done to Leonard? Nothing, they're at Penny's," Howard said blearily, pushing hair out of his eyes.

"Why are you here?" Sheldon demanded.

Couldn't they see that this was just wrong? Just bizarre? The sun rising in the west or the gravitational constant being 17 or yogurt coming in green. People were supposed to stay in their own beds. People were supposed to stay out of his bed.

"Too drunk to drive," Bernadette said with a smile. She snuggled back up to Howard and closed her eyes. "It was a good party, you should have stayed," she murmured.

Drunk! Useless!

He would get no answers here. "I know Howard is a debased pervert, but Bernadette, I expected better from you!" Sheldon informed them and closed the door sharply.

Back to the living room - was that Stuart overflowing the armchair? - and out to the hall. He didn't even need a key! Penny's apartment was open. Drunk, irresponsible people. It would only served them right if a crazed circus clown with a chainsaw came in and dismembered the lot of them.

There was someone asleep on Penny's couch too, one of her little friends curled up under a blanket. How many people did it take to have a party, for heaven's sake? Couldn't they have managed with six or seven? Or two or three, and less alcohol? And food that didn't make crumbs?

He went into Penny's room and knocked on the wall above the couple's head. That always worked. Penny's wall had excellent acoustic properties.

Leonard sat up with a yell.

"There is someone in my bed!" Sheldon informed him. "You put some liquor sodden inebriate celebrant in my bed. Section 4, subsection 11 of the roomate agreement clearly states that bedrooms are off limits to the other roomate's guests except in cases of a fire drill or a Van Neumann plague requiring barricading all organic life forms in one space lest we be processed into grey goo by the nanobots."

"Sheldon, you're back." Leonard found his glasses and put them on. Clearly, he had not heard a word Sheldon had said. Alcohol's brain cell deadening after effects, no doubt.

"Were there nanobots, Leonard?"

"What?" Penny too had managed to surface to consciousness. "Amazing, I'm not even surprised you're here," she said.

"Did you put someone in my bed?" Sheldon demanded. Of course it was her.

"Yes!" Penny said. "I did. We ran out of places to put people. It was a great party."

"You can't do that!"

"It's Amy, Sheldon. Just Amy. She just needed a place to sleep."

Amy.

"Oh," Sheldon said, the wind quite out of his sails. That was different. That was…that was better? No, that was worse?

Amy was in his bed. He didn't know what that was. The universe was stretching out of shape again.