I woke up with the worst headache of my life. Not the emotional kind, not the metaphorical kind—just the “I-drank-five-shots-of-something-unlabeled” kind. I stumbled to the kitchen, eyes half-closed, determined to finally perfect my hangover cure. It was supposed to be simple. Ginger for the nausea, honey for blood sugar, turmeric because every health guru said it helped, and a touch of powdered mushroom because I thought I was clever. The mixture fizzed. Okay, it wasn’t supposed to fizz. But I was too tired to care. I drank it in one gulp. The world went sideways. Not in the way that a hangover makes it go sideways. I literally rotated 90 degrees and found myself hovering mid-air, staring at the ceiling from a bird’s-eye view. I screamed. Or tried to. It came out like the chirp of a squirrel. I rushed to the mirror and was greeted by a pair of glowing yellow eyes. My reflection blinked—a half-human, half-fox version of myself stared back. This was not a hangover cure.

The transformation lasted three hours. By the time I returned to my regular body—naked, in the neighbor’s garden, covered in soil and feathers—I knew I had something dangerous on my hands. Naturally, I bottled it. I labeled it _“Hangover Cure 2.0 – TEST ONLY”_ and hid it in the fridge behind expired kimchi. The next morning, my roommate Max woke up with his usual Sunday regrets and decided to try my mysterious “remedy.” He didn’t even ask. I found him levitating in the hallway, screaming that the houseplants were whispering to him. Later, he told me he could understand squirrels now. Said they complain a lot about humans. Word got out. Friends wanted in. “Just a sip,” they said. “Let me feel something weird.” Soon I was mixing batches, experimenting with ingredients. Some potions gave people temporary telepathy. Others caused time loops for five-minute bursts. One made someone sing only in Italian opera for two days. Was it irresponsible? Probably. Was it fun? Absolutely. But one day, I spilled a few drops on the pavement—and the cracks in the concrete started closing. That’s when I realized: This wasn’t just a hangover cure gone wrong. This was something the world might not be ready for. Or maybe… something it desperately needed.