A Party Animal

Good ol' Saturday. Spike is home, no doubt to freeload on Thanksgiving next week. Has he ever offered to help prepare the green bean casserole? No, of course not. But put a plate of turkey drumsticks and giblet stuffing on the table and he's the first to help himself.
Tonight I planned to pick up one of his favorites, a bold pinot noir, with hopes that we could play a rousing game of Trivial Pursuit. But when I arrived home, I discovered Spike had already took it upon himself to not wait for me and have a wild and crazy time with the cooking sherry. (Darnit Spike...I had pork tenderloins defrosting in the fridge for that).
So now he's passed out in the living room and I have no one to play Trivial Pursuit with.
I'm not looking forward to tomorrow morning when he's whining about his hangover.