======= ======= ====== ====== ====== ===== ==== ====== ====== ===== ==== ======= ======= ====== ====== ====== ===== ==== ====== ====== ===== ====
Oh crap! I have to start sober driving in thirty minutes and I still haven’t found a car to use. I think the pledge trainer is suspicious, he just sent me a text that said, “You don’t have a car yet, do you, fuckstick?” How do they always know!?!?!
Maybe Wheeler will let me use his Jeep. What are pledge brothers for, right?
Wheeler said no one is allowed to use his car for sober driving anymore except him ever since the senior who everyone calls Donkey got in it while blackout drunk last weekend with a bushel of bananas he stole from the 7-11, started beating his chest and grunting, and then threw bananas at the driver and other cars. Then he banged on the back window until it broke. Sounds more like a gorilla than a donkey. Wonder why they call him Donkey.
Just asked an active how Donkey got his nickname. He’s got a huge penis.
Another active just walked up and told me that the first active was messing with me, that Donkey’s name is actually Tim Donkey, and that in reality Donkey has a small penis.
Alright, enough about this guy’s nickname/dick, I need to find a car, now.
Out of desperation I asked an active, Henderson, if I could borrow his SUV. I promised to gas it up for him and clean it, assuming that would be enough incentive. It wasn’t. After an intense (because he screamed at me the entire time) and one-sided negotiation, we finally had a deal. In exchange for the privilege of using Henderson’s car to sober drive, I have to fulfill the following obligations, which, because he seemed to be extremely drunk already, seem like they were made up off the top of his head.
-He gets first dibs on all rides tonight
-I owe him a fifth of whiskey
-Due to his love of both cold pizza and bagels for breakfast, I have to have a plate of cooked and cooled pepperoni bagel bites ready for his breakfast everyday for the next two weeks.
-He lost his TV and DVD player remotes, so I have to be his new “universal pledge remote control.” He assured me that I “better damn well believe that includes porn.”
Took some guys to the bar early because they wanted to eat and watch a hockey game. They were all pretty cool, actually. Maybe this won’t be so bad.
Just got a text from Henderson, he said he needed his remote.
Got back to Henderson’s room. He had his laptop hooked up to his TV with a PornHub video cued up and everything, but he was waiting for me to hit play. I didn’t really look but I saw the word “Mature” in the video’s title, and the preview picture seemed to show the setting as some sort of medical facility. What the hell is this guy into? Henderson, without me asking, explained that he wanted to “cut the first string” before he went out to “give some slam’s fuck quarry a ‘frat fracking.’”
I think I picked the wrong guy to borrow a car from.
Thankfully, at least, Henderson ordered me to wait outside.
Waiting outside Henderson’s door.
My God, what is he doing to himself in there? I’m scared to leave, but even more scared to check.
Just heard a crash and a groan inside Henderson’s room. Gonna peek inside and make sure he didn’t just beat himself (off) to death.
Henderson fell off his futon and onto his coffee table, which he broke. His pants are around his ankles and his bare ass is hanging out. Can’t tell from this angle but I think his hand is still on his dick. He’s passed out. Gonna just get the hell out of here.
Dear God, that video he’s watching definitely takes place in a nursing home.
Pretty slow up until now, but lots of people are looking for rides to pregames and bars. Gonna be a busy night later.
Just dropped off like twelve people in a row at some bar that has 75-cent triple wells. One active, who was already really drunk, said he was going to spend four dollars to black out and claimed that if he didn’t get laid he was going to blame me and haze me until my “dick is dog food,” because then, either way, he’s “punishing a pussy.”
Not sure what exactly he meant by that, but all the alliteration made it pretty terrifying. God I hope someone is dumb enough to have sex with him.
An active just called and told me to go pick up a group of girls who couldn’t find a ride. They’re all from the hottest house on campus. Nice. Maybe I can score one of their numbers for a “ride” later. Heh.
Jesus Christ that ride was AWFUL. A bunch of hot girls got in the back and seemed cool, but the only one I talked to was the girl who got in front. She was kind of cute, but such a bitch that it didn’t matter. She started ordering me around, only called me “pledge,” and then went on this big tangent about how important she was, but she was so shitfaced it barely made sense.
“Okay, listen, pledge, you need to listen to me, okay? I’m pretty much a member of your house. WAY more than you, pledge. All the guys LOVE me. I’m like their sister. I’ve dated like half of them. If you piss me off, I will make SURE that they kick you out. Like, they’ll haze you, and then they’ll be like, ‘get out.’ Okay? You know the president? I KNOW him. We have class together. I could call him right now and say, ‘Your pledge is a total creep he sucks and he was a dick to me’ and the president would be like, ‘You gotta go, sorry. Sorry. Sorry, you gotta go. Get the fuck out Sorry.’ I could haze you if I wanted to. But I’m nice. You should be nice to me, because I’m nice, unless you’re a dick, then I’ll fucking ruin you. Like, don’t mess with me, you know? But if you’re nice to me, I can totally get you initiated. They listen to me. If I’m like, ‘You need to initiate him, he’s a stud, he’s so cool plus he’s nice,’ they’ll believe me. I’m a nice person, so I want to help you. OH MY GOD! You fucking passed the bar, DUMBASS.”
Someone at the bar got too drunk, I have to pick him up. Really hope it’s not that guy who wanted to feed my penis to a dog, or whatever.
Oh crap, it’s Donkey. He is blacked out. I think he wants to go to 7-11, but he called it “9-11” and then started screaming fuck terrorism at me, really loudly.
Donkey keeps alternating between drunkenly mumbling and loudly yelling his words. Over and over again he keeps saying, “Get it up to 88 miles an hour so we can get to 9-11.” Not sure why he wants to get there so fast.
Just realized Donkey thinks he’s in a time machine and wants to go back in time to stop 9-11.
Just made the mistake of informing Donkey that we weren’t in a time machine. The news did not make him happy. He’s so drunk that his suggested punishment for me not being able to travel in time to stop 9-11 was for us to travel back in time so he could shove my mom down the stairs while she was pregnant with me. I reminded him again that we weren’t in a time machine, then he said he’d kill my mom in the present so that I wouldn’t exist anymore. Tim Donkey doesn’t have a great grasp on the concept or intricacies of time travel.
Pulled up to the 7-11 in the hope it would soothe Donkey’s hot temper. Donkey got out of the car, flipped me off, slammed the door, and went inside.
Just remembered what Donkey did at 7-11 last weekend. Shit. Shit shit shit. Please, God, don’t let him come sprinting out of that store with an armful of stolen goods.
Donkey came sprinting out of the store with an armful of stolen goods, screaming, “START THE CAR.” The car was already running. He jumped in and, not knowing what else to do, I peeled out. Looks like Donkey stole about $30 worth of taquitos. He refused to share.
Dropped Donkey off at the fraternity house. He went inside and proceeded to eat what was left of his stolen taquito feast. I wasn’t really sure how much trouble I was in, but I figured if this were Grand Theft Auto I’d have one star at best, so I decided to head back out.
As I was reversing out of the driveway, out of nowhere, Henderson leapt onto the hood of his car, TJ Hooker style. It scared the shit out of me. I slammed the brakes on so hard that he ended up on the windshield. He climbed off his car and got in. Henderson proceeded to bitch me out for a solid five minutes, mostly about how I didn’t hit stop on his mature porn video. Then he said to take him to the bars immediately so he could find some “wet pussy” because it was “Thirsty Thursday” and he “needs a sip.”
Henderson has a pretty dark sexual appetite.
Dropped Henderson off at the bar. Really hope that triple wells special is over. I don’t want to see Henderson after he takes down a handful of triple whiskey gingers. He may very well end up trying to choke someone to achieve an erection tonight, and I have to imagine I’m a leading strangle candidate.
The bars are letting out. My phone is blowing up like crazy. Henderson is calling. Shit. He has first dibs. Better go get him. There are other people at that bar anyway. I can kill a few birds with one stone. Also, I hope Henderson doesn’t get horny and try to kill a bird or something.
Dammit, this is the carload from hell. Henderson, that active who wanted to turn my dick into dog food, and the drunk girl who lectured me earlier, all got in. They said they wanted more booze, and told me to drive to the store. I tried to drive to the liquor store up the road, but Henderson demanded I go to the nearest place that sells booze, 7-11.
The 7-11 parking lot is empty. I guess the cops came and went. Henderson told me to go get him the whiskey I owed him. I tried to explain that 7-11 only had pints, and that I wasn’t 21, and didn’t have any money on me. He didn’t care. I walked inside and prayed to God nobody working saw the car.
Asked for five pints, snatched them off the counter, and tore out of the store like I was involved in my second robbery of 7-11 that night, which I was. I ripped open the car door and peeled out, again. Henderson said I got the wrong kind of whiskey and ordered me to go back for the right kind. I ignored that request.
The girl was laughing hysterically. She said, “OhmyGod I love you guys! You’re like my brothers, you’re so funny.” I noticed in the rearview mirror that while she was claiming to be like family with the fraternity she was giving the active in the backseat a hand job.
Parked the car. Henderson took the keys back and told me he needed his remote. I trudged upstairs to hit play on what I assumed was going to be a mash up of elderly O-faces and faces of death. I figured this night couldn’t get any worse, but then I learned a bunch of drunk actives had some of the other pledges in the basement and were throwing old eggs at their scrotums.
Sober driving isn’t so bad.