Me and my buddy were chilling hard, roaming the streets, knocking back beers like there was no tomorrow. We linked up with some chicks, cruised around, and they dropped us off at my mate’s crib before bailing. Already half-wasted, we staggered into a dive bar that stays open till 3 a.m. for a serious top-up. Round after round, the bottles kept coming, and we were flying high—until everything went pitch black.

Next thing I know, I’m waking up at noon in some random-ass apartment, body aching like I’ve been hit by a truck, jaw swollen to hell. We grill the people there about what the fuck went down last night. Turns out, as the night was winding down, a pack of grizzled dudes over 40 rolled into the bar and started talking smack. Me and my boy, not ones to back down, challenged them to throw down with some sambo moves—y’know, we’re athletes, right? So, it’s a 3-on-2 brawl in the grass outside.

The damage? My jaw’s busted, and my buddy’s got a nasty arm fracture with displacement. Moral of the story, folks—lay off the booze, or you’ll end up a damn mess like us.
#drunkstories #brawl #epicfail #hangoverhell