"Chowder, my son: we’re gonna get you hammered, you fuckin’ beaut.” “I don't know if that's the best idea," Eric says dubiously, looking at the back of Chowder’s dejected head. “Bits, it’s Haus tradition!” Shitty exclaims, warming to his subject. He’s probably about five seconds from striking a Captain Morgan pose with his foot on a chair. “It’s got to be done!” “Okay,” Chowder says, unexpectedly. He bolts upright. There is a gigantic red mark on his forehead from the table. “Yeah, okay! Let’s get hammered!!”