Penny shuffled into the kitchen, certain that her cranium had expanded to the size of a large pumpkin. That would at least explain why she felt like she was a giant blonde bobble head, wobbling side to side and sending flashes of pain through her skull. She squinted her eyes against the light that sneaked through the curtains above the sink, but mercifully, someone had drawn the shade and turned off the lights, so that only a dim half-light filled the front of the apartment. She could barely open her eyes, and would have walked right into the table, had she not heard the guttural groan coming from the slumped figure with her head on the formica top.

"UUUGGHHH…" Amy's voice sounded low and groggy, like a tape being played at half-speed. "This must be what the Elephant Man felt like in the morning…"

"You're not an animal, you're hung over," Penny grumbled as she slogged to the cabinet, grabbing two coffee cups. She scooped instant coffee into the mugs and turned on the hot water, then almost swallowed the dry coffee grounds before she had mixed it. After a few perfunctory stirs, she stumbled to the table and nudged her friend.

"Move over, Elephant Girl," she groaned. "I gotta squeeze my mongo head in here, too."

After a few sips of coffee, Amy spoke up, her voice less fibrous. "Why do we drink, Bestie? Why? We know the result will be regurgitation and dehydration, resulting in lethargy, headaches, and light sensitivity. It's a self-compounding conuh…conuh…oh hell, it's a pain in the ass."

"Because rather than deal with the emotional impact of life's troubles, we seek to numb the pain and achieve a state of euphoria, no matter how brief." The blonde blinked her eyes and rubbed her temple. "Oh God, that was way too many big words for this early in the morning."

"I must be rubbing off on you," Amy croaked. "You've got a good working knowledge of neuropsychology."

"No, I read it in that paper you and Bern wrote for my psychology class," Penny yawned, rubbing her eye. "Way to step it up, by the way. Got a 92. We're really exceeding the prof's expectations."

"A Neuropyschological Approach to Post-Adolescent Behavior in the Girls Gone Wild Series," Amy said, reciting the paper's lengthy title in a slow, bleary drone. "We did do a lot of research on that one."

"Just so you know, I may have participated in one of those videos," Penny said, closing her eyes and resting her chin on her hand.

"Really?" Amy suddenly perked up, sitting up straight.

"Yeah, just because it was College Spring Break didn't mean you had to be in college to join the party. The only prerequisites I needed were Beer Bong 101 and Introduction to Flashing."

The two girls lounged silently for a few minutes, drinking their coffee, with the occasional moan breaking the silence. Just as Penny was starting to doze, Amy spoke.

"Bestie," she said flatly. "Are we okay?"

Penny opened her eyes and looked at her friend wearily. "Why wouldn't we be okay?"

"Well, just, the whole thing with Sheldon and the wrestling and the kissing and all that…" She lacked the energy to finish the sentence, leaving the air heavy with unresolved ideas.

"Listen," Penny sat up, sliding her hand over to Amy's. "That Whack-a-Doodle is not going to get in between our friendship. For all his problems, he is your boyfriend, and one of my best friends. You know what you need from him, and you're the one that has your name on that Agreement. So yeah, things are great between us."

"Oh, I'm so happy," she said with an overly bright tone, then winced from the effort. "Besties Forever."

"Yup," Penny replied, putting her head back down on the table. A few more moments of quiet passed, then Amy sang softly to herself.

"I want your love…love, love, love…" she mumbled, lifting her finger in time with the tune, while Penny looked up with a confused look on her face.

Sheldon carefully poured the milk on his Raisin Bran, estimating the six ounces needed to sufficiently saturate the flakes so as to be palatable yet not too soggy. Sure, it was a crazy thing to do on a Saturday morning, but after the night he had, Sheldon felt the need to throw caution to the wind. Hopefully, by choosing a high-fiber cereal, he would be able to pass all of that awful blueberry goo and flush the memories of the last evening down the drain.

As usual, Leonard was sleeping in, which was just as well, as Sheldon liked the quiet of the apartment early in the morning. The street traffic was lighter, so there was less incidental noise outside. He could relax in his Spot without any need to remind anyone that it was indeed his, and he could watch all of the Doctor Who he wanted without interruptions. Still, Sheldon was feeling a bit fuzzy, due to the fact he could not get the optimal amount of REM sleep he required to face the day. So, he carried his bowl of cereal carefully to his Spot, placing it on the table. He picked up the remote and turned on the HDTV, settled in and began watching the program.

I really wish I'd stayed asleep long enough to kiss her.

The thought came literally out of the abyss of his subconscious, which no doubt was more conscious than usual due to his fatigue. This caused him to reflect on the dream that he would rather forget. It gave him enough of a start to make him shake his head and blink, just to make sure he wasn't dreaming again. But no, he was fully awake, and shook his head with a slight snicker at his foolishness. He sat back again, picked up his bowl and spoon and began eating his breakfast.

She certainly made for an attractive Klingon, and her salty thlngan was strangely arousing. Qapla'!

He snapped out of his stupor to find his fist on his chest, and his blood pressure and heart rate elevated. Now he was growing concerned. This kind of subconscious back chat was coming out of nowhere, and seemed to be a direct result of his horrendous, dream-disturbed sleep cycle. And what was the impetus of that, but the actions of a certain blonde she-devil across the hallway who had used acute physical stimuli to initiate a series of chemical secretions and synaptic responses, which unleashed a hormonal maelstrom of animal instincts, an involuntary desire to mate with the strongest and most fertile female in the group, for the specific purpose of procreating his own homo novus species, and naturally, the male subject's reproductive organs would respond in the most primal manner, reflexively interpreting these signals to initiate coitus, thereby sending an electrochemical message to his genitalia to prepare his seed to be unleashed, and then…

Sheldon felt intense pressure, and looked down to his crotch, which had risen to the occasion. He folded his hands in his lap, swallowed his mouthful of cereal, and looked at the TV screen.

Darn that Klingon girl and her man hands…