What Are Friends For?

So, my friend and I went out on Friday night to get drunk. As you do. We were drinking Strongbow because of its sheer crisp drinkability.
Good times ensue.
After a couple of 'Car Bombs' we were done for the night. So we said our goodbyes and retired back to our respective homes to ride out the miserable, stomach churning headfuck that is the 'Revolving Bedroom'.
I awake the next morning parched as fuck and a little worse for wear. However, upon chatting to my friend an hour later, it seemed I'd got off lightly. "I woke up like death... But with a hard on." he says.
I laugh. Partly because it was funny and partly out of jealousy because my ‘Morning Glory’ wasn't quite the baby's arm it usually is.
"If I ever pick up another cider; fucking punch me, dude." he goes on to say. A mixture of feelings and emotions flood me upon reading his request. Laughter. Happiness. Nausea. Confusion. A little bit more nausea.
But the one that stuck with me the most was that feeling of DESPAIR.
I never wanted it to come to this. I never wanted to see the day.
But… a friend's request is a request nonetheless. So I had no other option than to begrudgingly accept.
"Okay, man.” I started, “But if I'm going to resort to punching you, I'll have to imagine that it's my cider you're picking up. Punishing people for drinking cider is not something I feel I can do."
I'm such a good friend.