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The Time My Fraternity House Was Bleach-Bombed By GDIs

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The Time My Fraternity House Was Bleach-Bombed by GDIs

The party was in full-swing. Beers were being shotgunned on the porch, the second keg was about to be tapped, and nobody had yet yacked up their Jimmy Johns Italian Night Club sandwich with extra salami all over the outdoor basement retaining wall. With the number of attendees at the house in the hundreds, it was obviously difficult to keep track of everyone. Our parties were prone to having more of an “open door” feel to them, which, in hindsight, I’m sure was just a nightmare for our risk management chair. As such, we had quite a few strangers getting wasted on our premises. The more the merrier, we figured.

In walk these two guys with the most punchable faces you’ve ever seen. Tall, thin, and cargo-clad. It was apparent that they didn’t know anyone at the house, but we tossed them a beer regardless and got back to raging face. Little did we know, we had just let terrorist villains into our party.

About half an hour later, I notice a scuffle brewing in the main room of the house. Apparently, one of our girlfriends caught these two bastards dipping into our personal refrigerator and thieving an entire pizza we were planning on partaking in post-party. Being the cowards they were, they snuck off to the upstairs bathroom to eat their stolen prize in the shameful seclusion of the shitter. To add insult to egregious injury, they tossed the empty box right on our sofa, smearing sauce and crust remains all over the cushions. What kind of sick maniacs steal a man’s pizza and then don’t eat the crust? Just enough of a smack to remind us that our pizza is gone, but that there’s nothing left to enjoy. Total sociopath move if you ask me.

Obviously, this could not stand. After some quick accusations and a few wild claims of innocence, we hustled them out of the house and gave them the boot. Assuming that was the end, we counted our losses and got back to the party. But those pricks had something else in mind for repaying our kindness.

Down in the basement, the party was packed with people. As I’m sure many of you are familiar with, at peak party times like these, there can be little to no air circulation. Even though we were in the frigid depths of winter and were running a bit of heat throughout the house, we popped a few windows and doors open to get some fresh air moving around.

Suddenly, however, there came emanating throughout the basement an overwhelming odor of chemicals and chlorinated bleach. Within seconds, the entire basement was awash in the burning chemical stench, stinging our eyes and scorching our nostrils. Fleeing the toxic death trap that was our basement, the party emptied upstairs only to find the situation worse. Scrambling to get outside, we just got a glimpse of the two pizza-thieves running away down the street, high-fiving and skipping like dandy pricks.

Donning shirts over our mouths like we were avoiding a SARS outbreak, we ventured back into the house to try and piece together what was happening. Heading to the upstairs bathroom, we quickly unraveled their master plan. The sneaks had re-entered the party through an open door that we were using to vent the basement and had clambered back to their den of thieves after systematically closing the windows and doors behind them. Once in the bathroom, they located the industrial bottles of bleach we had stored there to help clean the house after the party. Unscrewing the lids, they proceeded to dump literally all of our bleach down the bathroom floor vents.

Those vents lead to the heating unit, which aerosolized the bleach and recirculated it back throughout the entire house. Our living space had been bleach-bombed. Even after evacuation and massive ventilation, it was several days before the smell left the house, and every now and then we would still notice small drips of bleach in the basement weeks later.

Thankfully, this story has a happy ending. A few of our fleet-footed brothers managed to chase down the perpetrators and deliver a bit of well-deserved street justice. Lesson learned, however: hide the bleach and keep the geeds out.

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