NOTE: This is from my NaNoWriMo Novel and it's very rough. So be nice...please! Wait, what am I saying, rip this apart! Sorry if it seems a bit long but trust me, it really isn't.
“I’m getting too old for this,” Finn grumbled into the carpet as a Salvador’s tongue ran across his cheek.
Davie chuckled from his place on the coffee table. “You’re not getting too old. You’re just not doing it right.” He whistled and Salvador jogged over to the coffee table, propping his front paws on to the top. Drool dribbled down from his mouth and pooled onto the faux wooden surface.
“Is there a right way to be hung over?” Finn asked as he pushed himself up off the floor and flopped right back down on to the couch beside him.
“Of course there is. Just clear your head and focus on not vomiting up what I’m guess will be the least delicious Technicolor treat your mouth and your nose will probably ever experience.”
“You could have just said ‘nope’ and left it at that, Davie.” Finn’s stomach turned over at the thought before he grabbed for one of the couch pillows and chucked it at his roommates head. Davie leaned left quickly and the pillowed world passed, hurdling into the pyramid of beer cans that had formed on top of the entertainment stand. Salvador barked and scrambled into the aluminum pile, licking at the puddle of skunky beer and backwash that quickly formed on the floor.
Davie jumped off of the table quickly and grabbed up the bulldog pup. “Now now, Sal. You don’t need to be drinking that. Come on boy. We goin’ outside?”
Salvador barked and Finn could hear him licking away at Davie’s face.
“Why don’t you start cleaning up, Finn? Move around. Work it off,” Davie suggested. There was clinking as he stepped through the pile of spilt cans before the door creaked open and whined shut.
Finn cringed at the noise before rolling over to stare at the ceiling. His head spun and the world went out of focus as he stared up at the mildew stain they had named Jesus after its resemblance to the biblical figure. (Of course, the resemblance was really only noticeable if one were to squint both of his eyes and tilt his head approximately thirty six degrees to the left while laying on the couch and not looking directly at it.)
But it didn’t take long before he imagined the scent of the stain and his stomach turned over again. He eased himself off the couch and stood still, waiting for his head to stop spinning. It didn’t.
Finn dropped back onto the couch and looked around the apartment. The remnants of their beer can pyramid were still leaking a foamy mess onto the floor next to half a dozen empty pizza boxes. On top of the boxes stood three different shoes, none of them matching.
It looked as if Salvador had begun chewing one of them.
Things were laying about that he didn’t recognize as having ever been in the apartment. There was a witch’s hat resting over the lamp and somebody had drawn a face on the shade. And a dark cape had been draped over the kitchen counter along with a pink bra and the raw hamburger meat that he faintly remembered helping stuff into the bra.
And pants. From where he was sitting, he could see at least four different pairs of pants laying about along with two skirts that must have belonged respectively to a cheerleader and a naughty school girl. He spotted his own dark brown pirate breeches half-dipping into the fish tank.
“I can’t believe I’m not wearing pants.” He grumbled in the floor and glanced down at his bare knees, thankful for the first time ever, that he was wearing the frog-print boxes that his mother had bought for him.
“And I can’t believe that I woke up in the bathtub.”
Finn turned around to see Xandra, the girl from upstairs whose leaky water heater was the reason for Jesus’ existence. Her blonde curls were mussed up and she was still wearing the Princess Stripper costume that she had been wearing last night, her tiara, the only thing that made had made her costume princess-like, was looped through the front of her bra.
“Morning.”
Xandra plopped into the rocking chair opposite him. “I hate to break it to you, Finn, but it’s four o’clock…in the afternoon.”
“Do you know when the last of the people fell asleep?”
“Nah. You’ve still got a few people in your and Davie’s bedrooms.” She slipped into her strappy silver heals. “And I’m late for work. Stop by later on if you and Davie want to,” she seemed to, for the first time, take in the torrid state of the living room, “once you get all of this taken care of any ways.”
Finn stood up and stretched.
Xandra giggled. “Buh bye froggie boy.”
And before he even had time to blush, Xandra was gone and Finn was standing in the middle of the room. His muscles ached and he wanted to lay back down. But he resisted the urge to nape and rubbed at his eyes.
He kicked at the pile of beer cans, his socks soaping up the beer puddle like a sponge, and headed towards the bathroom. It was an obstacle course of random things and do dads that had been left laying about the room. Something smelt faintly like vomit and his stomach twisted again.
"Davie is not getting out of helping me clean up. Not this time."
Finn recalled the last time they had thrown a party of this magnitude. And when it was all done and over with, Davie was nowhere to be found. Davie had claimed that it wasn't his responsibility to do the cleaning up, seeing as the party had been for Finn in the first place. Finn had sensed a flaw in the logic but hadn't said anything. He hadn't had the energy too. Not being able to find or contact Davie for two days after the party hadn't helped either.
Finn grabbed a towel from off of the back of the rocking chair and carried it towards the bathroom with him, disposing of it into the hamper. At one point last night, they had used the hamper in order to collect socks. And now, resting in the bottom of the white plastic container, sat several dozen different colored socks. Black ones, white ones, long ones, short ones.
"And I'm sure as hell not going to figure out who those belong to." But he was, if nothing else, glad that the socks had been deposited there. It meant he wouldn't have to buy socks again for at least a few months once he sorted out the ones that wouldn't fit and the ones that would be too embarrassing to wear anywhere.
The apartment door creaked open and Finn could hear Davie whispering to Salvador. He had a habit of philosophizing to the dog. Finn would sit around for hours sometimes and just listen to all of the senseless things that his roommate would mutter to his dog.
"Hey Finn," Davie called. "You haven't accomplished much yet on the cleaning front if you haven't noticed." There was an uncomfortable amount of laughter and Finn wondered if Davie had meant to insult him just then but he couldn't be sure. There were only two years between Finn and Davie but those two years seemed like a lifetime or two of knowledge. Davie was the smart one. Thoughtful and experienced. Finn was still practically a high school punk. At least that's what Davie would call him.
"I know. You don't have to tell me twice. This place is in chaos. But I didn't figure that vomiting from the stench in here was productive towards getting this shit hole cleaned up."
"Ooh, 'productive' is a big word for you isn't it, Finn."
“Bite me,” Davie grumbled.
Davie appeared behind him. “Just say when and where.”
(If that's not what it was, you should really think about writing from another angle...) I want to know what happens after this, so that means it has two thumbs up from me 
Keep writing.
