The Hangover, Part 1. (Phil Wenneck X OC.)

Prologue.

Ring. Ring. Ring. Click.

"Hey, you've reached Doug. Sorry I missed your call, please leave a name and number and I'll get back to you."

Beep.

Ring. Click.

"Hi, you've reached Dr. Stuart Price with Divine Dentistry. Please leave a message after—."

Beep.

Ring. Ring. Click.

"Hey, this is Sergeant Brooklyn Billings of the L.A.P.D.. I'm sorry I missed your call, please leave a message and I'll get back as soon as I can."

Beep.

Ring. Ring. Click.

"Hey, this is Phil. Leave me a message—Or don't. Do me a favour, don't text me. It's gay."

"Anything?" Tracy's sweet mother, Linda asked. The bride shook her head.

"I tried them all. It keeps going straight to voicemail," She answered, her face in distraught as a hair stylist gently brushed through her long brown hair.

"Well, there has to be an explanation."

"Sweetie, it's Vegas," Tracy's father, Sid, spoke from a couch, a magazine in his hands. "You lose track of time in those casinos. There's no windows, there's no clocks. He's probably on the heater. And you never walk away from the table when you're on a heater," He finished, waving a pointed finger in the air to emphasize his point.

"You do if you're getting married," Linda lightly scolded her husband, only to be cut off by Tracy's phone ringing.

"Hello?" She answered instantly.

"Ahem, Tracy, it's Phil," Phil answered, making Tracy immediately stand from her chair.

"Phil, where the hell are you guys? I'm freaking out."

"Yeah, listen. Uh.......We fucked up."

"What are you talking about?" Tracy questioned, beginning to pace around the room she and her bridesmaids were getting ready in.

"The bachelor party, the whole night. It...Things got out of control, uh...and we lost Doug."

"What?"

"We can't find Doug, even with Brooks here. We can't find him."

"What are you saying, Phil? We're getting married in five hours!"

"Yeah.......Thats not gonna happen."