A/N I'm determined to go through to this story to the end! No matter how slow it feels, I want to have at least one reasonably sized story on FP! A/N

I read somewhere that "It's better to have lived one day as a lion than live a dozen years as a sheep."

Screw that.

If being a lion for a day means getting drunk, jumping off the roof of your house, landing on a trampoline and ending up with a broken wrist and a hole in your roof, then being a sheep doesn't seem all that bad.

Why the elaborate metaphor?

Well, for one thing, Marion's sitting next to me on the couch with his wrist on ice, Steph was on the other side of me passed out on my shoulder, and I was drunk. Oh yeah, and Finn (Not drunk) was busy Googling "Roof repair" while he was uploading the soon to be famous "Drunk kid crashes through roof" video on Youtube.

When you live in the sticks, drinking is what you do after you've exhausted the Internet of fun and played your video games through twice. Well, for geeks like us. I guess it depends on what you are. Jocks drink after they run out of ways to be assholes sober. Emos have a drink after a fufilling day of writing bad poetry and cutting themselves. Drinking is the universal, "I'm done, I'm bored, and there's nothing better to do" pasttime of this rural wasteland.

This time, it was the first day of spring break.

Seemed like a perfect enough excuse for me.

It started out as a small get together, with Finn, Marion, Steph and I . After a few shots of whiskey, it was more like an episode of Jackass. When you got a trampoline and one story house like Marion's, you didn't mess around with paltry tricks, you do a suicide jump off of the roof like the badass your alcohol addled brain makes you think you are. And if that wasn't enough, you do the same stunt again, but this time, you try bouncing back from where you started.

And so here we are.

The room was still wiggling around my pupils when I stood up. It took a few wobbly steps to walk across the room and over to Finn and the computer, but I managed collapse on the back of Finn's swivel chair.

"How goes?" I asked.

Finn stood up from his computer, "Alright." The guy tried to act mature and proper whenever we got drunk.

He started towards the door to the garage.

"Where ya going?" I slurred out, "Slow dooooown..."

"I need a hammer and a screwdriver." Finn called back. I heard the rattling of a toolbox being searched.

I walked over to Finn, "What for?"

"There's these college students over in Germany that made a potato cannon." Finn picked up a mallet and a flathead screwdriver, "They shot a hole through someone's roof, so they broke off a big branch off a nearby tree, put it in the hole, let the contractors take care of it."

I didn't quite understand, but it sounded like it would make perfect sense if I wasn't so wasted, so I went, "Finn, the man with the motherfucking plan, man..." I followed him into the yard, "I love you man."

"Love you too." Finn replied plainly. He climbed up a tree and started to pound his screwdriver into the base of a large branch.

"No seriously, I fucking love you, like, I owe you man." I felt myself drift in place, "If it weren't for you, I would've been scared of humans forever... Or be a big douchebag like my brothers..."

"And it's hard being a werewolf, and British, and a ninja pirate, right?"

"Yeah, that's what I'm talkin' about. There you go man, you know me like... Like..." I tried to snap my fingers to prove my point, but I settled with a hand clap.

"You know what else I think? You know Steph? I think I like her. Like, like her like her. Like, like, like, love her, you know? When I'm near her, it's all like, 'Yeah, she's the one'"

"Never hurts to be optimistic." Finn turned to me, "Better move."

"What?"

I felt a thud on my head, and everything went black.