Ch. 3
Later that day, Bart came down from his room with a splitting headache. His dad was on the couch, watching TV.
"Hey Dad?" he asked. Homer sighed, hating to be interrupted while watching TV.
"What is it?"
"When you get drunk…do you feel sick at all?"
"Nope, only the next morning I do!" he said, chuckling.
"Oh…okay. Thanks dad," said Bart and went back upstairs.
I kind of liked being drunk. I probably got sick only because it was my first time. My headache is going away. Should I try again? The 10 year old thought, looking in his mirror. "Let's do it!" he cheered, quickly making his way back downstairs. Bart crossed the family room again, but stopped.
"Hey Bart, do you know what happened to one of my beers? I had six…but now I have 3," Homer said. Bart turned around.
"That's because you drank 3 of them, dad,"
"But I only had…" he started, and started counting on his fingers. "two," he finished.
"Sorry dad, don't know what happened to that other one," Bart said and managed to leave. Marge was at the store, getting TV dinners for tomorrow. The ten year old opened the fridge and managed to get another beer without making a sound. Now how was he going to hide it from his dad? The answer came from a series of snores just starting then. Bart peeked in the family room seeing Homer dead asleep.
Bart sniggered and crept across the room with the beer can, and ran all the way to his room. He closed the door behind him. "Alright, here it goes!" he said, chugging the beer down.