Ryan Stiles sauntered into the abc studios, ready for another long day of filming. Usually he’d go straight to makeup, but for a change he decided to chat to Drew first. He wandered onto the set and found Diedrich Bader and Christa Miller looking particularly miserable in the kitchen.

“Hey, who died?” Ryan jeered as he took a seat at the table.

“No one, we hope,” Diedrich said solemnly.

Ryan looked curiously at his friends.

“Drew hasn’t turned up, and we’ve tried to call him but there’s been no response,” Christa announced miserably.

“He’s probably hung over,” Ryan said meekly.

“Do you honestly think that’s true?” Diedrich scorned.

“No,” Ryan mumbled.

There was a brief silence before Ryan got to his feet. “I’ll go around to his house.”

“Ok, but call us when you find him,” Christa demanded.

“Yes ma’am,” Ryan nodded and made his way off the set.

Once at Drew’s, Ryan peered through the gates. Nothing looked abnormal. He pressed the intercom.

“Drew, you there? Drew…DREW!”

There was no response. Ryan tapped in the code to open the gates. He sauntered up to the front door and noticed it was unlocked.

Ryan crept inside and looked everywhere. He grabbed a signed baseball bat Drew had bought at an auction from where it was leaning in a corner. He went through the entire house calling Drew’s name. He found Drew’s mobile phone in the hall, but essentially there was no sign of him anywhere.

Ryan was about to give up and declare Drew a missing person when he noticed a note stuck to the fridge:

Looks like he didn’t watch his back – Ritza

Ryan scrunched up the note and scowled an obscenity. He thought everything that happened in Australia was long forgotten. It had been months since they’d had the world’s worst hangover. Now it was all coming back, dammit. He’d have to call his friends, he’d have to get on another fucking plane, and they’d have to go back downunder and rescue Drew.