Sweet Awakenings
His head hurt, in ways he had never even known possible. The last thing Erik clearly remembered was downing a bottle of fine scotch after witnessing Christine and her fop getting mushy on the opera house's steps. He was sure by how awful he felt that there were quite a few bottles that had followed the first one. He promised himself he would never do this again, provided he lived. Rolling over to the side of the bed, he puked rather gracelessly all over the floor.
i "Well you old fool; you've certainly done it this time." /i As he rolled back into place on the bed he noticed a number of things. The first and foremost was that he couldn't open his eyes, the second was that he was naked, and finally, in no particular order, was that he was on top of the covers and there was someone under the covers next to him.
At first a vain hope brought visions of Christine to his mind. Hesitantly he reached out his hand and felt very course hair. Christine's visage instantly vanished from his mind's eye, leaving him with nightmarish apparitions of a myriad of ballet rats, La Carlotta, and even Nadir, the last conjuring the urge to vomit all over again.
For moments he lay frozen in place, his hangover miraculously vanishing in the face of this sudden dilemma. He debated with himself for a while over the correct course of action. Killing whoever it was seemed to be the only feasible solution. If it was anyone who had never been in his lair before, they posed a definite threat, and if by some curse of hell it was Nadir, he would be too insufferable after this debacle to be allowed to live.
Taking in a deep breath, Erik forced his eyes open, fiercely resisting the urge to close them right away as the blinding pain hit him. He stared at the ceiling for a long while, not wanting to that which was necessary, not wanting to face whoever lay beside him. With all the courage of his little Phantom heart, he rolled over and snatched the blanket off the party next to him.
At that instant, Erik's greatest wish was to hang himself; instead he vomited over the side of the bed again. For beside him, sleeping quite peacefully, was the woolliest sheep he had ever seen. With a shaking hand, he poked the thing to make sure it was indeed still alive. After rolling over with a loud bleat, the sheep set about to affectionately licking Erik's scarred face. It was quite content for some time before it found itself rudely pushed away. The sheep watched in puzzlement as the naked man ran screaming towards his bath.