Fables/Fairytales Fan Fiction ❯ Goldilocks and the three bears ❯ Good morning Goldilocks!! ( Chapter 1 )

It was late Saturday afternoon and Tom had just woken up; he had a horrid hangover, a sadistic reminder of the party the night before. 

He groaned as he stumbled from his bed, sending his head pounding like a blacksmith on an anvil, and made his hesitant, wall-grasping way down the studio's hallway to the kitchen, immediately blessing his bandmates when he saw three cups of still steaming coffee sitting on the counter. 

He lunged for the first in a move that caused his head to pound even worse, so he stood still for a few seconds until he could think again.  

As soon as he was mobile he grabbed the first cup of blessed coffee and took the largest mouthful he could manage. 

And promptly spat it across the room.  

"Fuck!" He mad a bitter face, holding a hand to his aching head, while he slammed the cup down, also not a help to his pounding brain, and watched at the tar-like substance sloshed onto his hand. 

The coffee was as bitter and black as chewing tobacco. 

Apprehensively, he reached for the second cup and tentatively took a sip; he was immediately glad for his caution, as he spit the tiny bit back into the cup followed by a healthy amount of unwanted saliva.  

"Milk!" He placed the cup down and tried to rid his mouth of the awful taste by wiping his tongue on the shoulder of his large t-shirt.  

"Well that leaves one choice," he mumbled as he reached for the last cup chanting under his breath, "please be Bill's, please be Bill's." 

Time seemed to slow as the cup drew nearer, yet the inevitable arrived and the cup touched his lips; he took a deep breath and gulped down as big a mouthful as he could, hoping that if it was as disgusting as the other two, that a quick gulp would spare him the horrid taste; but to his surprise it wasn't that bad at all. 

"Thank you God!" He cheered, and then winced as the vibrations from his voice echoed through his head. He swallowed the rest of the coffee and just as he was setting the cup own as gingerly as possible, he felt the urge. 

You know the one, the one that says 'I have to go now!' with little or no warning. 

Once again Tom reached speeds that made his poor head throb with his heartbeat, and his stomach turn like bad milk. He made his way like a greased rat to the welcome portal of the main bathroom door, barely making it in time. 

When he was done he was faced with three rolls of toilet paper, he decided to try safest first, and took the larges comfiest looking roll, tore off a few pieces and gave it a try 

After using the whole roll, he still felt… dirty, and so took a look at the other two rolls, the next one looked like it could do the job; it was rougher than the other two. 

He barely managed to wipe once before he felt like he'd been wiping with sanding paper and made a hurried grab for the last roll, it was soft, but not too soft and had the required job done in less than a jiffy. 

He washed his hands quickly and made his way back down the hallway towards their rooms. 

He didn't bother to check which room he stumbled into, his only though being that he needed to sleep the rest of his hangover off, so he wall-clutched his way to the king-size bed in front of him and fell face first, once again disrupting the delicate balance of his brain, causing the pounding to get heavier. 

He moaned in pain for a while, before trying to settle down to sleep; moving slowly he wriggled his way under the covers. 

Just as he had settled into a comfortable position he felt a tickling sensations run up and down his legs. 

Grumbling sleepily, he scratched at the sensation, but when his fingers came back covered in what appeared to be bug guts, he flew from the bed with the speed of a rocket, ricocheted his way into the next room and landed with a plop on the bed inside. 

At first he thought the rocking motion was a trick his bleary mind was playing on him, but when it continued for more than a minute he paused for a moment to clear his mind. 

The bed kept rocking… rolling more like, like the ocean. The soft wave like motion was making him sick to his stomach, and before he could stop himself he had sprayed what coffee was still in his stomach across the vast expanse of Gustav's water bed. 

Through his addled state he managed to realize that this bed was no longer suitable for slumber; and so with heavy limbs and a head thick with pain, he made his way farther down the hallway to the next doorway, promptly falling comfortably asleep on the bed inside. 
 
 

When the three other band mates came inside form their smoke break they settled down in the kitchen to finish their coffee. 

Gustav was the first to notice. 

"Someone has been drinking my coffee," he drawled uncaringly. 

"You think?" Bill remarked sarcastically, as he motioned to the tar like spray covering the tiles form one side of the kitchen all the way to the ceiling. 

"No one touched mine," Georg commented as he took a healthy sip from his own cup. Bill felt bile creep up his throat at the sight of the foamy saliva that had been resting on top of the coffee, slip into Georg's mouth with his sip. 

"I wouldn't count on that," he murmured under his breath and turned to his own mug  

"Holy fucking shit! Someone drank ALL my coffee!" He wailed into his empty mug. He sat at the table to lament his loss as Georg made his way into the bathroom to take care of his morning -ahem- business. 

Bill's eyelids were just sliding shut from lack of caffeine stimulant, when Georg's bellow of outrage could be heard form down the hall. 

"Who the heck used my ENTIRE roll of toilet paper?" The shout was followed by the sound of the toilet flushing and yet another shout from Georg. 

Gustav looked up from scrubbing the kitchen floor free of his coffee, and Bill blinked blearily, they both made their way to the bathroom cautiously; no one ever approached the bathroom while Georg was in it, and at least not for an hour afterward. 

As soon as there were with in sight of the door a dark stain could be seen on the carpet under the door, murky water was leaking out at an alarming rate. 

Gustav being his practical self spoke up, "there is no way I am dealing with anything shit related this early in the morning." He promptly left to continue scrubbing the kitchen leaving Bill to stare at the quickly growing marsh, that smelled strongly of… well, shit. 

"Biiiiill!" Georg whined form behind the bathroom door, sounding decidedly distressed. 

"Yes?" Bill blinked his mind beyond foggy from caffeine depravation and getting worse.  

"Help?" Georg's reply was little more than a squeak. Bill remained silent for a moment as if contemplating the pros and cons of helping, before offering his particular brand of genius.   

"Just leave it, it'll sort itself out eventually?" The door flew open at that and a toilet paper and shit covered Georg burst out of the room, arms stretched out to hug Bill. 

Bill was saved from the shitty hug by the sound of Gustav's enraged shout form down the other hall, that lead to their bedrooms. Both the crap covered Georg and sleepy Bill made their way in the direction of the shout. 

"Who, the fuck, barfed all over my bed?" Gustav shouted as he flew out of his room, his face dark as storm clouds and his arms waving like spastic seaweed. 

He glared at Bill, who simply blinked at him like he was a piece of uninteresting wall hanging, and then he tried to glare at Georg, but promptly laughed, his problems were no where near as bad as Georg's. 

"Thaaaanks," Georg drawled sarcastically as he watched a hysteric Gustav roll about on the floor clutching his belly, laughing so hard the only sound he made was of a wheezing quality.  

Georg decided neither Bill nor Gustav would be much help and so he walked into his room to make use of the private bath inside. 

He made a point of never shitting in his own bathroom, it was too pretty for him to bother stinking up, that was what the main bathroom was for, plus it was funnier when the guys complained.  

Bill was mostly oblivious to his surroundings by this time; all he could think of was sleeping for the next few days… or weeks. 

So with little preamble, he waddles his sleepy way to the door second from the end, his room; he was just kicking off his jeans when another shout form Georg could be heard. 

"Someone was sleeping in my bed, too!" 

Bill couldn't help but smile slightly as he buried himself in his blankets and felt a warm body wrap around him, a delicate nose burry itself in his hair and warm breath ghost upon his neck. 

"Someone's still sleeping in mine," he whispered before finally slipping off into wonderland.