"WOOO! Friday night! Friday NI-YEET! You guys ready to get crunked!?”
Oh, God. Why did I say that? I’m sure my compatriots are already certain as to the date, and they’ve already expressed a distinct desire to get, ahem, “crunked as balls.” I expect I must look quite the fool in the eyes of my fraternity brothers. Quickly, Chadwick, cover! COVER!
“I’m high as #@&%, dog!”
Nailed it. What’s this? It seems the fellows wish for me to select which Athens establishment we will grace with our patronage tonight. Where shall we go, I wonder? If I’m recalling Grandmother Milton’s words correctly, there is a lovely café off of Union Street, but that will hardly suffice for such a merry bunch as we! I must take a moment to deliberate the merits of each ––
“Yo, let’s go to Broney’s, guys! BRO-NEY’S! BRO-NEY’S! BRO-NEY’S!”
A pox upon my impetuous tongue! Alas, but they have taken up the chant. Let it never be said that we of Kappa Phi Beta are slow to determine a course of gaiety! As Nietzsche once remarked, “amor fati.”
“Hey, hey bus driver — what’s the fare, bro? Do I just — do I just put the money in this little box thing here, or — or what? Man, why you gotta look at me like that? Man, what a jackass.”
My heart withers beneath the driver’s caustic glare. I can see the weariness in his wrinkled face: the long years of frustration and loneliness he endures, shuttling we youthful students ’cross town. My apologies, gentle bus driver; while my countenance may project indifference, know that in my heart I weep for you and yours.
“Hey! Dude! You can’t just bump into me like that, bro! I don’t swing that way! Yo, back that #@$% up before I put a fist in your jaw!”
What is it about this fellow that upsets me so? He merely grazed my arm as we passed on the street, yet a single glance at him sets my heart ablaze with fury. It’s as if I see in his delicate features a reflection of my own buried desires, all the shameful feelings I’ve repressed over the years. Would that I could but embrace him, and in so doing embrace myself. Yet I could not bear the scorn of my fraternity brothers –– and so I have little recourse, beyond this pointless hostility. What a cruel jape this nightly jaunt has birthed!
“Yeah, you BETTER walk away!”
Go in peace, friend –– and know that you have taken the best of me with you.
“Awright, we made it. Know what time it is? It’s time for SHOTS!”
Anything to drown out the looming despair that creeps over me further with each passing day. I’ve failed 11 classes, and my GPA is somewhere in the negative numbers –– my best days in high school are beyond me, and I find myself wedged squarely beneath that pitiless guillotine called “The Future.”
Only the sweet taste of two-dollar liquor can ease the constant fear that pervades my very being.
“Heyyy, hey –– who’s that hot chick over there? Dude, I would tap that so hard!”
What angel is this, that graces my vision with her heavenly aspect? Her golden highlights, her red-rimmed eyes, the faint traces of vomit at the edge of her mouth, the way she slurs every other word –– ne’er have I witnessed a woman of such grace, such peerless charm. I must introduce myself! But what to say?
“Yo girl, if I said you had a fine body, would you hold it against me?”
You fool, Chadwick! You were too forward! She’s walking away! Quick, you have to salvage it!
“Hold a moment, if you would. I know that we are but new acquaintances, but I would never forgive myself if I did not tell you now that I think you are the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. If you should walk away now, I shan’t hold it against you, but if you could grant me the kindness of accompanying me to dinner tomorrow evening, I … well, I daresay you would make me happier than any man alive.”
... Wait, did I say that out loud? Oh, god, everyone’s staring! Do something!
“... cuz that ass is outta this world!”
Nailed it.
Ryan McAndrews is a senior “studying” journalism at Ohio University and a secret poet laureate as well as a columnist for The Post. Send him your internal monologues at rm287608@ohiou.edu.
