[RL] The Hangover, Haitian Style.

[Spike blinks his eyes open, not entirely surprised he isn't sure where he is. Maybe that says something about him as a person, but mostly it says something for how hard his life is. Rubbing at his eyes until they focus, he's met with a splitting migraine as he tries to sit up. Is that ... Fischer on the couch? And everything's destroyed. He's glad he doesn't have plastic to be liable for this mess.

... Yeah. That's a chicken.]