The Best Actor in the Vase of Meiyu

Chapter 1717 Confusion

vomit.

Chris felt like vomiting, his stomach was churning, and it felt like the world was spinning 720 degrees. He felt dizzy.

I opened my eyes with difficulty, only to find myself lying flat on the ground, with my cheeks, body and limbs pressed firmly against the ground. But why was the world still spinning?

But his muddled head had no time to think, nor was there any way to function. He used his hands and feet to drag his body, crawling forward like a caterpillar.

I couldn't even help but put my cheek against the ground. The coolness of the marble helped relax my nerves a little. I stuck my butt high and pushed my body forward.

He groped blindly in front of him with his hands and finally grabbed the sofa. He supported himself and stood up, then rolled forward and got into the sofa.

result--

Uh.

A muffled groan.

Before Chris had time to think about what was going on, he had already grabbed another person on the sofa, rolled down, and fell to the ground again.

"Ow!"

Brad's groan of pain came to my ears.

Chris covered his ears, "Keep it down. Please, keep it down, don't yell into my ears."

Brad didn't hear it at all. He curled up in the blanket and said, "Get out of here."

Chris still felt as if the whole room was spinning at high speed, swaying, floating, and rotating 360 degrees. He felt uncomfortable in his stomach.

vomit!
Brad seemed to smell bad breath and kicked Chris hard, "Damn it. If you need to throw up, go to the bathroom. I have a really bad headache."

"God, you guys are such a jerk. I hate you. I haven't had a drink in a year and it's all your fault."

Chris was dizzy and finally controlled himself, "You don't have to drink it. None of us forced you. Obviously Anson would never force you."

Brad curled up into a ball, feeling hopeless. "Get lost. You'd be a fool not to drink $20,000 worth of whiskey."

On the side, there was the sound of someone stretching, and before anyone could even speak, there was a lot of banging noises, as if the table had been kicked over.

Brad and Chris both looked in the direction of the sound, and saw Seth with a messy hair sitting among a pile of beer cans. His red eyes were filled with confusion, and there were even food residues on his messy beard. His expression looked as if he had been through a big battle last night.

Seth looked left and right, his eyes seemed to be unable to find focus, and he complained in a half-asleep, "Haha, are you sure? We are going to shoot a movie about the hangover in Las Vegas, and you tell me that you are not going to drink at all during the whole process? Do you believe this?"

Chris covered his ears again, "God, keep it down, keep it down."

Brad looked at Chris with a puzzled look on his face. Seth's unclear words just now were almost like talking to himself. To be honest, he didn't hear it clearly at all -

Is Chris serious?

The problem is that Brad is too busy to respond to Chris. He rubs his temple and asks, "Who remembers what happened last night?"

Chris:…

Seth: ...

No one responded, only silence.

Brad had a splitting headache and struggled to sit up, but he never expected that such a simple action would cause his whole body to protest.

Honestly, he felt like his back was about to break, literally, sincerely.

Brad covered his cheeks with his hands, in deep regret: He shouldn't have drunk. He should have had control, he should have been more rational and smarter.

The results of it?
Hangover, blackouts, memory loss.

No one remembered what happened last night. He didn't even remember how he came back. His mind was a mess.

How could he allow this to happen?
He doesn't believe in himself. Among so many people in the world, the person he should least trust is himself.

He was afraid that he would make the same mistake again, he was afraid that he would lose control and then... things would fall apart again.

"Grass!"

Brad finally couldn't control himself and cursed. However, before his anger could burst out, Chris's words cut off all his emotions, "Where's Anson?"

Brad was stunned and raised his head suddenly. He didn't care about anything else and looked around, but there was no sign of Anson in his sight.

Apparently, Chris noticed it too. He simply stood up and looked left and right. "No, there's no Anson. He's nowhere."

Seth struggled to stand up, but fell back down like a tumbler. He spread his arms and legs helplessly, "It's okay, everyone calm down, it's nothing serious, don't make a fuss like it's the end of the world, it's just a hangover, doesn't this happen every day?"

"You should see James, he wakes up in his own vomit at least six days a week and on the side of the road one day."

"Haha."

Obviously, Seth was very satisfied with his joke. He sat on the ground alone, laughing so hard with a smile on his face.

Unfortunately, Chris and Brad didn't have time for it.

Chris no longer cared about his headache and shouted, "Seth, have you forgotten? The reason why we came to Las Vegas?"

Seth was confused, "It's a movie."

Chris: "Yeah, movie, what movie?"

Seth, "'The Hangover'..." He was stunned, his smile stiff, "Damn it, you can't be serious?"

What if the things in "The Hangover" happened in real life?

What if... they lost Anson?

Dare not think too deeply!

Seth shuddered and held his head, "Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck." Seth tried to stand up, but still couldn't. He simply crawled over on all fours, yelling, "Anson?"

"Anson!"

"If this is a prank, you win. We're really freaking out right now."

Brad cursed, "Seth, you still have time to joke now? We're both hungover and blacked out, is this also a prank?"

Seth looked up with an innocent face, and immediately saw the ferocious and angry expressions of Chris and Brad, and he felt a little embarrassed.

The original intention was to ease the atmosphere, but now it seems that the effect has backfired.

Seth muttered, "I don't know what happened and why are you taking it out on me," but it was just mumbling. Seth was still worried about Anson, so he continued to crawl around the living room, trying to search every corner behind the sofa and under the curtains.

At this moment——

Buzz, buzz.

Phone vibrates!

The three of them exchanged glances, all showing delighted expressions. Brad found his cell phone in the garbage pile on the coffee table, but was stunned.

"Anson's cell phone." Brad was stuck in his words, unable to figure out whether this was a good thing or a bad thing.

Chris, "Brad, who's calling? Is there caller ID?"

Brad looked and saw, "Mike Tyson."

Wait, so…everything last night was real?
Did they really meet Mike Tyson, did they really open a half-million-dollar bottle of whiskey, did they really drink themselves into blackouts in Elysium?

Damn it!

Brad didn't know what to do, and subconsciously wanted to throw the phone away as if it were a hot potato.

Chris saw it and said, "Brad, answer the phone, pick it up, maybe Mike Tyson knows? He knows where Anson is!"

Brad hurriedly tried to grab the phone again, like he was juggling it.

A voice came from behind, "What are you doing, performing acrobatics so early in the morning?"

(End of this chapter)