| Friday, October 18, 2002 4:30p EST On a chilly fall Friday, at the end of midterms and a week before Parent's Weekend, the students of American University in Washington, D.C. were understandably stressed out, ready for a weekend of relaxation (if by relaxation, you mean heavy drinking). All over campus, students were busy making plans for the weekend to go to clubs, restaurants, monuments, parties, anything but cracking books. One of the places where these plans were being made was just outside Blues Hall, an AU dormitory, where students Chester, Shannon, Rod Steele, and William the Bloody were sitting, smoking, and just beginning to relax. "Man, this week was sucked," said Shannon, lighting a cigarette. "Hardcore," added Rod Steele, as he borrowed her lighter and layed his head on her shoulder. "Dooooooooooooood, my last class was such a piece of sh!t," said Chester. "My professor is the most boring guy ever. He talks so slow. Man, me and William the Bloody were just sitting in the back making fun of him like the entire time." The four of them chuckled as Chester did an impression of his professor droning on about renaissance art. "Bloody wanker," muttered William the Bloody as he took matches out of the pocket of his leather duster to light the cigarette dangling from his lips. "Fact! Chester's professor is a bloody wanker," said Anders, as he walked past the smokers and into the building. "I slept through class today...in my room. Viva!" said Rod Steele, with a yawn and a stretch. The group continued smoking, chatting, and contemplating the weekend. They bounced potential plans off of each other. Shannon wanted to go to the $5 musical being put on in the campus theatre. Rod Steele wanted to go to a club. Chester talked about going to look at amps in Alexandria, and before William the Bloody could voice his plan (which actually would have been disturbing to the others), Crotchworth von Crotchington rode up to the front of the building, in full bike racing gear, sweating and out of breath. "What's up, Crotchworth?" the smokers said. "Oh my god, some capitalist pig stole all the water on campus! That means that, not only can't I quench my thirst from that 25 mile ride, but I can't take a shower to wash off this sweat that has accumulated in my Spandex riding outfit!" Crotchworth answered. The smokers watched him, nodding seriously, but none were listening, as they were distracted by his Spandex. That is imPOSSibly tight, and we are seeing a whole lot of Crotchworth now, they thought to themselves. Frustrated by their lack of reaction, Crotchworth said "Hey, shouldn't we do something? I mean, what's gonna happen when all the DRUNKS come back and get sick???" There was a silence, as all within earshot considered the sheer volume of vomit that would produce. "I think we should alert Pearlman immediately," said Chester, the only one who was not sill mesmerized by Crotchworth's Spandex-wrapped body. With determination, Chester whipped out his cell phone and walked around the corner, presumably to make that ever-so-important call. Next The Adventures of Pearlman |