When your mates are hammered by the time you arrive, there’s only one solution. Tequila. Much tequila.
I woke up to brilliant sunshine, a mouth like a crocodile’s armpit, and a sense of unease. There seemed to be something trapping me to the bed. It was an arm. A very hairy obviously masculine arm. I managed to lever myself into a sitting position, and barely repressed a shriek.
Either I was in bed with grizzly bear, or…
The hairy thing rolled over.
“Morning wife,” it said.
“Wife?” I heard the panic in my own voice.
I never drunk tequila again.
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