The Hangover

Chris woke up with a start. Instead of seeing his bedroom ceiling, he was face to face with a strange woman.

“M-morning,” he croaked.

The woman cocked a thin eyebrow at him. “A friend of my nephew, I assume?”

Nephew?

Chris looked to his left and was surprised to find a blond head snuggled into his shoulder.

Shit.

"Good morning, Darren," the woman said coolly. The blond’s eyes snapped open and when he saw his aunt standing cross-armed at the bottom of the bed, he looked horrified. "You were sick on my geraniums last night and trampled all over my begonias."