Thirteen days ago:
Unsurprisingly, Twilight was quite miserable the next morning. All the classic hangover symptoms were there: sleeping in, extreme sensitivity to sunlight, a pounding migraine, thirstiness, nausea, and irritability. In other words, for Twilight, a typical morning.
"Ughhh, How much did I drink last night?" Twilight muttered as she clumsily made her way down the stairs. "I feel like..." She stopped dead in her tracks. She looked around. The library was covered in math. The floor, the walls, the books, the furniture, the ceiling?: every usable surface it seemed had notes and equations scrawled messily upon it. She blinked.
"Wow, I drank that much?"
...several hours earlier...
It was nine in the morning, and he was finally finished with his part. Spike had immediately decided that he would NOT be cleaning the math up. Vomit he could handle, but he didn't want to accidentally erase something important and face the infamous wrath of Twilight "I'm an egghead even when I'm drunk" Sparkle. So he left the ink on the furniture and everywhere else it had ended up (seriously, how did it even get on the ceiling? He wasn't sure he wanted to know.) and was getting ready to go back to bed (Celestia knew when Twilight might finally rise.), when he noticed a piece of paper on Twilight's written-on writing desk. Normally, this would not be unusual, considering the amount of writing Twilight in fact wrote. However, all her scrolls were littering the now vomit-free floor, all except for this one. Spike looked at it, and read aloud:
Heyyyyy, Spiek, I'm suuuuper drunk. See, I'm even wriiiiiiting like I'm drank. But din't wurry, I got a reesn. I caught a spell. A very good spell. But I don't wnat to remebmer what I cast in the mmmmorning. Tat's y I'm so drink. So don't tell me what I casted, okey?
Spike stared at the letter. "Uhhhhhh, OK?"
...sometime the previous night...
"Valkyrie Vodka Twilight? Vodka? Really?
"HIC!" she replied.
"And FIVE of the them? This stuff is 80 proof! How are you even still standing? How do you NOT have alcohol poisoning?!?!" Spike was flummoxed by her behavior.
"Buck youuuu," Twilight slurred. "I'm a shoonicorn. I'mph magic beeeeeeeyatch."
"Ugghhh, I do not get paid enough to be you handler." Spike sighed as he grabbed an ink quill and one of the many blank scrolls lying on the floor, and started to write a letter.
Dear Princess Celestia,
You freaking better double my pension next month, or I'm stuffing "your faithful student" into a box and mailing her back to Canterlot Castle.
~XOXO, Spike