Disclaimer- I do not own any part of the Hangover, I just love
"I still can't believe you're getting married," said Phil as he turned the key of the rental car.
Alan beamed. "She's really something special guys- like those bagels you get without the hole."
"Alan, that's just bread." Stu reminded him, but Alan wasn't listening.
"Where is it we're going, anyway?" Asked Phil, adjusting his sunglasses as the rare Irish sun glared at him through the windscreen.
"Ballyredgeon. It's in Meath- which is Ireland."
"No shit it's in Ireland." Phil said, trying to get used to driving on the left side of the road. "Stu- check the map."
"Second exit on the next roundabout should get us onto the main highway." Stu told him.
"So what's happening with your bachelor party?" Doug asked Alan, who's face grew solemn.
"I'm not having one. Roisín told me that her dad will go nuts."
"Are you fucking serious?" Phil burst out, stopping the car abruptly. "You drugged us at the past two bachelor parties- I got attacked by a tiger, Stu lost a tooth, tattooed his face and married a stripper Doug spent 24 hours on the roof of Caesar's Palace- not to mention the fact I got shot by Bangkok gangsters-"
"But it was so much fun." Whimpered Alan.
"Like when you took a punch from Mike Tyson?"
"That's a cruel and forgotten memory…"
"So basically what you're saying is that you put us through all that, and you're denying us one last bachelor before you get hitched because 'her dad will go nuts'."
Alan nodded silently. "…He knows about Vegas and Bangkok."
"How does he know?" Demanded Doug, "who told him?"
"I did," Alan replied nobly, ignoring the groan that followed. "And her dad is very accepting."
"Here, Roisín is this little fat fella the one you're marrying?" Said Bernard McDonagh, catching Alan in a headlock.
"Ah Daddy, leave Alan alone." Roisín pouted, pulling him away from her father.
"How about this lad, Roisín?" He pointed at Doug, "or the fancy looking one," he pointed at Stu. "You look like a dentist, lad."
Stu turned scarlet, "well I have a PhD…"
"That's great, Doc. And what about you? Wenneck." Bernard glared up at Phil, who was a head and a half taller.
"Course you are." Said Bernard scornfully. "Gobshite. I knew a man called Wenneck once. Fecking yank again."
Phil coughed uncomfortably. "That's great, er, sir… I think we'd better go up to our room." He and the others made their way up to the attic room they had booked, with three single beds and one double.
"Awesome, isn't she?" Sighed Alan. No one replied.
Stu nudged Alan. "Y'know, I was thinking maybe we could go to Dublin for a for a drink? Seeing as there's no bachelor party and you're getting married in two days."
A couple of hours later, they sat at a table in the Four Seasons in Dublin.
Alan grinned, and took out a bottle of vodka, filling each glass. "I got it at the airport." He told them.
"I thought you weren't allowed to purchase alcohol in Customs anymore?" Said Doug.
"No- I mean Bernard sent it to me when we landed in the cab."
"And you promise you didn't spike it?" Asked Phil carefully.
Alan put a hand on his heart.
"You know… I think this is nice," said Stu, "Just the four of us having a good time that we'll actually remember tomorrow."
"I'll drink to that," Said Doug, and they clinked their glasses together, tipped back their heads and swallowed.