The pair of buddies enjoyed the bizarre sights of Pleasure Island on their way to the restaurant mentioned in their vouchers.
"We're totally going on that roller coaster later," Ron said, pointing to what looked like a simple loopy coaster. At further glance, the lone loop built into the track seemed to trap the carts, taking them round and round for at least a minute before letting them continue along the tracks.
"Bet you don't last twenty seconds in that loop before puking!" Ron chuckled.
"You're on," Zack replied. "If I manage to hold it in, you're buying me lunch tomorrow."
"Dude," Ron said, pulling oodles of vouchers from his pocket. "That ain't a problem."
"Something from the gift shop, then. Oh hey, we're here."
The duo had arrived at the tavern advertised on their vouchers. They nonchalantly strolled into the quaint bar-like atmosphere of the restaurant and took an empty booth.
A waitress came around just seconds later. Zach and Ron were stunned to see she was covered in realistic tan fur with leopard spots. Her eyes were yellow and slitted, and her hair was a wild orange color. "What'll you boys have to drink?" she purred.
"What do you have in spots," Ron stammered. "Uh...I mean...what do you have on tap?"
The woman's eyes narrowed, betraying a look that told Ron she was happy to be leered at. "I recommend the house brew for you handsome gentlemen. It's a special brand of alcohol that gives you a whole new perspective. The perfect way to start your stay at Pleasure Island."
"We'll have two of those," Zack replied.
A few minutes later, Zack and Ron were downing their third round of beer. They agreed it was some of the best they'd ever had. They'd almost forgotten they had ordered food.
"Oh man, I can't eat all this," Zack said, eying a generous platefull of wings, fries and a thick juicy burger.
"Seriously, this beer's all I need to fill me up," Ron agreed. That didn't stop him from digging his teeth into his barbecue ribs, though.
Full and happy, Ron and Zack lumbered out of the tavern with their stomachs full of food and drink, singing a bastardized rendition of "Auld Lang Syne," despite it being a warm summer evening. Unlike other times when they had gotten drunk, they felt strangely nauseous. They quickly decided not to pursue any more activities for the evening.
"Gotta find hotel," Zack mumbled, leaning into Ron for support.
"Yesh," Ron said.
"Think it'sh that one." Zack pointed to a tall building up ahead.
"Yesh," Ron said.
They staggered toward the hotel, where a black bear in a bellhop uniform opened the door for them. Inside the lobby, Zack pulled their reservation card from his pocket, accidentally removing the stack of vouchers from earlier, which fell to the floor.
"'S ok. We've got more," Zack said.
"You two seem to have been enjoying yourselves. Honeymoon?" the manager asked.
"Yesh," Ron said. "Wait...no?"
"No," Zack confirmed. He was having trouble keeping his eyes open. "We're shhhtraight. Won free tickets. Shhome contest."
"Excellent, excellent. You're in room 327." The manager handed them two key cards and snapped his fingers. A gazelle woman in a tidy black uniform came over to escort them to their room.
The room was spacious, though sparse. All the necessary comforts were there, however.
"You'll find your luggage in the closet," the woman said. "We had it transferred from the boat. Have a pleasant evening."
"Thanksh," Ron said as he plopped onto one of the beds. The woman closed the door behind her, leaving the two alone. Zack checked on their suitcases. Everything seemed to be in order, though with his deteriorating vision, they could have been anyone's suitcases and he wouldn't realize it. Behind him, Ron began to snore.
"Lightweight," Zack said. He shuffled toward the bathroom, but suddenly felt dizzy. He tumbled backward, shifting his feet and trying to stay balanced, but ultimately ran up against the vacant bed and fell onto the soft mattress. Before he knew it, he had drifted into a deep slumber.