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Description
We lost Shane. We need to find him. His wife is going to be ticked.

Earlier.

The place is Vegas. We are driving down the road in a Chevrolet Corvette, my dad's. This is one wild party.

My name is Bryan, Bryan McGee, and I'm here on the wildest party of my life, with my two best friends Sean and Shane. You see, we all needed a break from our daily lives, so we came to Vegas for the weekend. Sin City. Biggest money pit in the world.

Anyways, it doesn't take a genius to know that our wives did not want us to come. Well, forget them. This is our night. Our night to party. Our night to...

Next Day.

"Ugh...What the frick is that?" This exclamation woke me up the next morning in our hotel room. It was Sean who said it.

I turned to look. "Dude, that's just a..." My eyes went wide. "Giant iguana?"

"Touch it."

"I'm not gonna touch it! You touch it! You're closer."

He hesitated, and reached out. "It's...it's just a stuffed animal."

"Why did you touch it anyways? What if it was a giant lizard? What would you do?"

"Why are we arguing about this?"

"Eh, I don't know." I looked around. "Where's Shane? And why are we out here, not in our rooms?"

"Check his room."

"Ok." I got up and walked down the hall and looked into Shane's room. He wasn't there. Maybe he's in another room, I thought to myself.

After looking through all the rooms, I couldn't find hide nor tail of Shane. "He's not here." I said as I walked back into the living room.

Sean was up, looking around the room. "What happened here last night? I mean, the place is a wreck. There is a diaper on the ceiling." He pointed upwards. "What the frick went down?"

"I don't know I can't remember anything. You?"

"Not a clue."

"Well, Shane's missing and we can't remember a thing," I thought aloud. "This sucks."

"Maybe we should search for clues or something," Sean suggested.

"Alright." And with that, we started to search. We searched every room, our pockets, under the beds, and all we found was a fake dollar that you can turn in for a free meal at a local Italian restaurant.

"I guess that should be where we start, " stated Sean.

As we're walking out of our hotel, we bump into this guy. He's a tall, bulky, Mexican fellow, who has a gigantic scar running down the side of his face. He's got this crazed look in his eyes, that looks like, "Hey, I'm gonna fry you up and lick your brains out." Or something along those lines.

He starts his introduction out with a threat. "Well well, if it isn't the two guys from last night. So you come back for more, Holmes? Cause I'm in a really crappy mood right now. Such a bad mood that I could beat the snot out o-"

"Hold on. Who the frick are you?" I asked.

He laughed. "You don't remember me?" His face went back to its wicked look very quickly. "Don't lie to me, Holmes. I know you remember me from last night."

"I seriously have no idea what you're talking about."

"You came over to my casino last night, and sat down at one of the blackjack tables," he explained. "We caught you counting cards. That's illegal, Holmes. When we confronted you, you punched one of my guys in the nose and ran off with all your chips."

Sean stepped in. "Bryan did that?"

"You don't lie to me either. You were there. There was another guy too."

"Really?" I interrupted, "what time was that?"

"About 12. You guys were severely intoxicated, man."

"Alright." I made a mental note. "Bye."

He stood in our way. "Where do you think you're goin', Holmes?"

"Err...We're going to get some lunch," I stated in fear.

He stood still. "I don't think so."

A thought of wickedness ran through my head. Without warning, I popped the guy in the nose and started to run. Sean hesitated for a moment, taking in what he saw, and then ran off after me. The man was still standing there holding his nose.

After we ran out and got to our car, we realized something od. It had the word "Thief" painted on it.

"That can't be good," stated Sean.

"Shut up and get in," I hissed.

As we drive out onto the street-the keys were in the ignition for some reason-we suddenly realize we don't know where we're going. We had no leads about where to find Shane. Then we remembered the dollar for the free meal we found in our pockets. And that's where we headed off to first.

"You're back!" Those were the first words out of who looked like the owner's mouth when we walked in. "I love these guys, do you not loves these guys? I love 'em. Give me a hug!" He hugged us both. "You fellas want anything, just let me know. It's on the house."

"Actually, there is something we would like to know," I said.

"Anything for you guys, eh." His smile was creeping me out.

"We'd like to know exactly what happened last night."

"You guys are joking right? These guys are a' pullin' my chain aren't they?" He asked this to a guy sitting and enjoying his meal. The guy just kind of nodded. "You guys love me? Is that why you came back?"

"Sire," I interrupted, "Please, we really don't know what happened last night. Can you give us the runaround?"

His happy look changed dramatically. "Oh. So you don't remember anything?"

"No sir," I said politely.

"You guys were the life of the party last night, eh. You came in, punch drunk-but still capable of having a good time you know? - And you just livened the joint up, like a couple of ice-cream men. It was you two and a third guy, where is he?"

"That's what we're trying to figure out. But he was with us, right?" I asked.

"Yeah. He put a smile on everyone's face, yeah?"

"I would guess." This may be hopeless. "So, what happened again?" I asked yet again.

"You guys came in, and started the party. Every one of my customers loved you guys, but what's not to love, eh?"

"Right," I confirmed.

"Well, eh', let's just say I owe a big amount of money to...a special organization."

"Like the Nazis?" Sean joked as I gave him the "shut up" stare.

"Not exactly," the man said, confused. "Still, they came in here and demanded for the money."

"Oh, the ma-" I elbowed him in the gut.

"But you guys," he started to smile and point at us, "you guys made it al better. You guys stood up, and started singing It's Beginning to Look a Lot Like Christmas. They started to sing along, for some reason, and forgot all about me," he explained.

"So, we helped you get out of the Mafia shooting you?" I asked.

"Yep," he confirmed.

"Well, eh...thanks for your time." I only said this because the situation was very uncomfortable.

"Alright. Come back anytime!" he exclaimed as we walked out the door.

As we walked out, I started the conversation. "So, where do you think Shane is?"

"Well, he may be with the Maf-" Sean didn't get to finish the sentence because, at that moment, a large van struck us head on as three guys got out. They put pillow cases over our faces and threw us in.

As they lifted the cases off our heads, the most vulgar of all words slipped out of my mouth. I said as follows, "Son of a gum chewing funk monster! Why the fruit does all of this funny stuff keep happening to me? Forget my life! Always surrounded my miserable failing clauds! Like this whole world just likes to bend me over and find me in the Alps! Like I'm some sort of schlock receptacle! Well, as far as I care, these miserable cows can have a fancy barbeque with a god dang pig!"

"Quiet, ya' oaf," said another bulky man, who kind of looked like the Mexican man we had met earlier.

"Where's our money?" asked the big guy we had met earlier.

Oh great... "We don't know, ok? we just don't know."

"You better figure it out, or else I'm gonna take it from you, Holmes."

"How are we going to figure it out? It's just chips! They haven't been turned into money!" I exclaimed at him.

"You have no idea how poker chips work, do you?"

"Not really..." I said, feeling kind of stupid.

"You can turn them in to any casino. How do I know you don't have those chips?"

"Fine. We'll get you your chips," I said, not too happy.

"Good. Because we have your friend." They pulled a sheet from the back of the van to reveal a guy trapped under another pillow case, screaming bloody murder. Or at least he would have been if he wasn't trapped under the pillow case.

"That's Shane!" yelled Sean.

Man, this is ending up like the plot of The Hangover... "Ok, what do you want us to do?"

"Get me the chips!" They then threw us out into the parking lot, and drove away.

"Wait...we were in the parking lot the whole time? Why didn't somebody help us?" asked Sean super confused.

"Jerks," I mumbled.

From there, we got up and thought about how to figure this situation out. We figured the best solution would be to just try to get some money. Luckily, we actually did know how to count cards. I won't go into detail about that, because that part of the story contains inappropriate things that would make this story turn to rubbish.

As we show up to the casino, the guy's posse is already waiting for us. "You got the money?" asks the owner.

"Yeah, it's all right here." I show him the bag we put the money in.

He took the bag and peered inside. "Yep, it's all in here. I knew you had it. Bring out the friend." They brought out a man who I recognized immediately was not Shane.

Sean was the first to speak up. "That's not Shane."

"What are you talking about? This is the guy who bopped me in the nose and ran off!"

"That may be the case, but that isn't our friend," I explained.

"Err...Gar fargle!" That's at least what I thought he said, but I have no idea because at that moment, they threw Not-Shane at us and bolted inside.

As we got up and let Not-Shane get away, we were out of leads. We had nothing. Nada. Until my cell phone rang. It was restricted, but I thought anyone might be able to help.

"Hey! It's my favorite guy, a!" It was the owner of the Italian restaurant.

"Umm...how did you get my number?" I asked.

"You gave it out all over the place last night."

Great. "So what's going on?"

"We found your friend. He was sitting out near the dumpster."

"Really?!" I was so relieved. How is he?"

"Well, a bit grumpy. You may just want to get him home."

"Ok, I'll be right over," I said as I hurriedly closed the phone.

"What's going on?" Sean asked.

"The Italian guy found Shane! Let's go!"

Sean had no questions surprisingly. He just got in the car, and I hit the pedal to the metal. We got to the restaurant in two minutes flat.

We ran inside and found out immediately that the guy wasn't pulling our chain. Shane really was there. We all rejoiced and had a drink of root beer there.

The End.

Description
We lost Shane. We need to find him. His wife is going to be ticked.

Earlier.

The place is Vegas. We are driving down the road in a Chevrolet Corvette, my dad's. This is one wild party.

My name is Bryan, Bryan McGee, and I'm here on the wildest party of my life, with my two best friends Sean and Shane. You see, we all needed a break from our daily lives, so we came to Vegas for the weekend. Sin City. Biggest money pit in the world.

Anyways, it doesn't take a genius to know that our wives did not want us to come. Well, forget them. This is our night. Our night to party. Our night to...

Next Day.

"Ugh...What the frick is that?" This exclamation woke me up the next morning in our hotel room. It was Sean who said it.

I turned to look. "Dude, that's just a..." My eyes went wide. "Giant iguana?"

"Touch it."

"I'm not gonna touch it! You touch it! You're closer."

He hesitated, and reached out. "It's...it's just a stuffed animal."

"Why did you touch it anyways? What if it was a giant lizard? What would you do?"

"Why are we arguing about this?"

"Eh, I don't know." I looked around. "Where's Shane? And why are we out here, not in our rooms?"

"Check his room."

"Ok." I got up and walked down the hall and looked into Shane's room. He wasn't there. Maybe he's in another room, I thought to myself.

After looking through all the rooms, I couldn't find hide nor tail of Shane. "He's not here." I said as I walked back into the living room.

Sean was up, looking around the room. "What happened here last night? I mean, the place is a wreck. There is a diaper on the ceiling." He pointed upwards. "What the frick went down?"

"I don't know I can't remember anything. You?"

"Not a clue."

"Well, Shane's missing and we can't remember a thing," I thought aloud. "This sucks."

"Maybe we should search for clues or something," Sean suggested.

"Alright." And with that, we started to search. We searched every room, our pockets, under the beds, and all we found was a fake dollar that you can turn in for a free meal at a local Italian restaurant.

"I guess that should be where we start, " stated Sean.

As we're walking out of our hotel, we bump into this guy. He's a tall, bulky, Mexican fellow, who has a gigantic scar running down the side of his face. He's got this crazed look in his eyes, that looks like, "Hey, I'm gonna fry you up and lick your brains out." Or something along those lines.

He starts his introduction out with a threat. "Well well, if it isn't the two guys from last night. So you come back for more, Holmes? Cause I'm in a really crappy mood right now. Such a bad mood that I could beat the snot out o-"

"Hold on. Who the frick are you?" I asked.

He laughed. "You don't remember me?" His face went back to its wicked look very quickly. "Don't lie to me, Holmes. I know you remember me from last night."

"I seriously have no idea what you're talking about."

"You came over to my casino last night, and sat down at one of the blackjack tables," he explained. "We caught you counting cards. That's illegal, Holmes. When we confronted you, you punched one of my guys in the nose and ran off with all your chips."

Sean stepped in. "Bryan did that?"

"You don't lie to me either. You were there. There was another guy too."

"Really?" I interrupted, "what time was that?"

"About 12. You guys were severely intoxicated, man."

"Alright." I made a mental note. "Bye."

He stood in our way. "Where do you think you're goin', Holmes?"

"Err...We're going to get some lunch," I stated in fear.

He stood still. "I don't think so."

A thought of wickedness ran through my head. Without warning, I popped the guy in the nose and started to run. Sean hesitated for a moment, taking in what he saw, and then ran off after me. The man was still standing there holding his nose.

After we ran out and got to our car, we realized something od. It had the word "Thief" painted on it.

"That can't be good," stated Sean.

"Shut up and get in," I hissed.

As we drive out onto the street-the keys were in the ignition for some reason-we suddenly realize we don't know where we're going. We had no leads about where to find Shane. Then we remembered the dollar for the free meal we found in our pockets. And that's where we headed off to first.

"You're back!" Those were the first words out of who looked like the owner's mouth when we walked in. "I love these guys, do you not loves these guys? I love 'em. Give me a hug!" He hugged us both. "You fellas want anything, just let me know. It's on the house."

"Actually, there is something we would like to know," I said.

"Anything for you guys, eh." His smile was creeping me out.

"We'd like to know exactly what happened last night."

"You guys are joking right? These guys are a' pullin' my chain aren't they?" He asked this to a guy sitting and enjoying his meal. The guy just kind of nodded. "You guys love me? Is that why you came back?"

"Sire," I interrupted, "Please, we really don't know what happened last night. Can you give us the runaround?"

His happy look changed dramatically. "Oh. So you don't remember anything?"

"No sir," I said politely.

"You guys were the life of the party last night, eh. You came in, punch drunk-but still capable of having a good time you know? - And you just livened the joint up, like a couple of ice-cream men. It was you two and a third guy, where is he?"

"That's what we're trying to figure out. But he was with us, right?" I asked.

"Yeah. He put a smile on everyone's face, yeah?"

"I would guess." This may be hopeless. "So, what happened again?" I asked yet again.

"You guys came in, and started the party. Every one of my customers loved you guys, but what's not to love, eh?"

"Right," I confirmed.

"Well, eh', let's just say I owe a big amount of money to...a special organization."

"Like the Nazis?" Sean joked as I gave him the "shut up" stare.

"Not exactly," the man said, confused. "Still, they came in here and demanded for the money."

"Oh, the ma-" I elbowed him in the gut.

"But you guys," he started to smile and point at us, "you guys made it al better. You guys stood up, and started singing It's Beginning to Look a Lot Like Christmas. They started to sing along, for some reason, and forgot all about me," he explained.

"So, we helped you get out of the Mafia shooting you?" I asked.

"Yep," he confirmed.

"Well, eh...thanks for your time." I only said this because the situation was very uncomfortable.

"Alright. Come back anytime!" he exclaimed as we walked out the door.

As we walked out, I started the conversation. "So, where do you think Shane is?"

"Well, he may be with the Maf-" Sean didn't get to finish the sentence because, at that moment, a large van struck us head on as three guys got out. They put pillow cases over our faces and threw us in.

As they lifted the cases off our heads, the most vulgar of all words slipped out of my mouth. I said as follows, "Son of a gum chewing funk monster! Why the fruit does all of this funny stuff keep happening to me? Forget my life! Always surrounded my miserable failing clauds! Like this whole world just likes to bend me over and find me in the Alps! Like I'm some sort of schlock receptacle! Well, as far as I care, these miserable cows can have a fancy barbeque with a god dang pig!"

"Quiet, ya' oaf," said another bulky man, who kind of looked like the Mexican man we had met earlier.

"Where's our money?" asked the big guy we had met earlier.

Oh great... "We don't know, ok? we just don't know."

"You better figure it out, or else I'm gonna take it from you, Holmes."

"How are we going to figure it out? It's just chips! They haven't been turned into money!" I exclaimed at him.

"You have no idea how poker chips work, do you?"

"Not really..." I said, feeling kind of stupid.

"You can turn them in to any casino. How do I know you don't have those chips?"

"Fine. We'll get you your chips," I said, not too happy.

"Good. Because we have your friend." They pulled a sheet from the back of the van to reveal a guy trapped under another pillow case, screaming bloody murder. Or at least he would have been if he wasn't trapped under the pillow case.

"That's Shane!" yelled Sean.

Man, this is ending up like the plot of The Hangover... "Ok, what do you want us to do?"

"Get me the chips!" They then threw us out into the parking lot, and drove away.

"Wait...we were in the parking lot the whole time? Why didn't somebody help us?" asked Sean super confused.

"Jerks," I mumbled.

From there, we got up and thought about how to figure this situation out. We figured the best solution would be to just try to get some money. Luckily, we actually did know how to count cards. I won't go into detail about that, because that part of the story contains inappropriate things that would make this story turn to rubbish.

As we show up to the casino, the guy's posse is already waiting for us. "You got the money?" asks the owner.

"Yeah, it's all right here." I show him the bag we put the money in.

He took the bag and peered inside. "Yep, it's all in here. I knew you had it. Bring out the friend." They brought out a man who I recognized immediately was not Shane.

Sean was the first to speak up. "That's not Shane."

"What are you talking about? This is the guy who bopped me in the nose and ran off!"

"That may be the case, but that isn't our friend," I explained.

"Err...Gar fargle!" That's at least what I thought he said, but I have no idea because at that moment, they threw Not-Shane at us and bolted inside.

As we got up and let Not-Shane get away, we were out of leads. We had nothing. Nada. Until my cell phone rang. It was restricted, but I thought anyone might be able to help.

"Hey! It's my favorite guy, a!" It was the owner of the Italian restaurant.

"Umm...how did you get my number?" I asked.

"You gave it out all over the place last night."

Great. "So what's going on?"

"We found your friend. He was sitting out near the dumpster."

"Really?!" I was so relieved. How is he?"

"Well, a bit grumpy. You may just want to get him home."

"Ok, I'll be right over," I said as I hurriedly closed the phone.

"What's going on?" Sean asked.

"The Italian guy found Shane! Let's go!"

Sean had no questions surprisingly. He just got in the car, and I hit the pedal to the metal. We got to the restaurant in two minutes flat.

We ran inside and found out immediately that the guy wasn't pulling our chain. Shane really was there. We all rejoiced and had a drink of root beer there.

The End.