Disoriented and freezing his goddamn nuts off, a naked Vice President Joe Biden reportedly awoke Thursday morning on an autopsy table in the Office of the Chief Medical Examiner, White House sources confirmed. Huh? said Biden, shooting bolt upright in the darkened morgue among a row of unidentified male corpses. What the hell? Whats going on? Ah, Christ. You gotta be fucking kidding me. Not again, the vice president added. Biden, who vaguely recalled spending the previous evening at a seedy strip club where anything goes with several high-ranking cabinet members, was unable to remember the details of what occurred afterward or how he ended up in the morgue, speculating that he must have had a fucking blast. Last thing I remember, [Secretary of the Treasury] Jack [Lew] and Blaze and me were blowing off a little steam at Crystal City, then we stepped out for some taquitos with Cinnamon and that other little firecracker, said Biden, squinting his bloodshot eyes and assessing what appeared to be a phone number scrawled in lipstick on his inner right thigh. Gets real fuzzy after that, though. I told those guys that shit was laced. While vigorously rubbing his body to keep warm in the morgues 39.2-degree cold chamber, the former six-term Delaware senator reportedly discovered and removed the toe tag attached to his right foot. Biden, who briefly inspected the identification card that listed his name as John Doe, loudly groaned and muttered pig bastards after noticing the toe tag contained a law enforcement case number. After clutching his temples for several minutes and staring blankly at the tile floor, Biden reportedly climbed down from the table and immediately realized that he had to piss like a racehorse. The vice president confirmed that he searched for a receptacle to relieve himself in, finally settling on a plastic basin used for storing viscera. Biden reportedly wrapped a body bag around his shoulders to stave off the frigid temperatures, but then abruptly became visibly distressed. Shit, shit, shit, said Biden, pacing the drainage slits between the rows of unclaimed bodies. The fucks my phone? I just loaded that baby with more minutes. White House officials confirmed the vice president rifled through several drawers and cabinets, but ultimately abandoned efforts to locate his disposable cell phone, complaining that he was thirsty as hell. Biden reportedly found a large glass container of formaldehyde on a shelf, drinking several large gulps of the solution, which the 70-year-old politician claimed really took the edge off his hangover. According to longtime aides, this is not the first time Biden has found himself doing time in the deep freeze. In 2010, the vice president awoke under a pile of dead bodies after a botched business deal in Mexico as well as in Moscow, where a dispute over a backroom billiards game turned pretty hairy real damn quick. Sure as shit isnt my first rodeo in the meat locker, said Biden, who reportedly grabbed a forceps from a nearby surgical table and attempted to jimmy open a locked exit door. Just gotta get a handle on some stuff before I wake up in a pine condo. Plenty of juice left in this ticker. Diamond Joes not going to the boneyard without a fight, added Biden. Referring to the string of events that led to his arrival at the morgue, Biden reportedly criticized his associates for leaving him out in the cold while they carted my ass off to Stiff City. Well, when Dynamite Joes deep in the shit, he just digs himself out solo, said Biden, muscling his way through a window and setting off several security alarms in the process. After a hassle like this, I really need a nice long night of balls-to-wall partying. Better let Jill know I wont be home for a few days or shell tear me a new one, added Biden. Sources confirmed the vice president had managed to wedge himself through the open window before becoming visibly upset when he noticed a friend and associate from way the hell back lying dead on a nearby autopsy table. Worm? said Biden, rushing to the dead mans side. Jesus, man. Never thought it would end like this. Dont worry about Charlene. Ill take care of her. Wriggle on, brother, added the presiding officer of the U.S. Senate, closing his friends eyelids before sliding a watch off the dead mans wrist. Save me a seat at that big poker game in the sky. 