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Chronicles Of A Senior At A Frat Party

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Every self respecting senior knows the only place to be on a Friday night is dancing it up at some bar downtown. The only problem is, that doesn’t always happen. Maybe you’re too broke for bars, your little lost her fake, or you just want to relive your freshman days. Whatever the reason, you’ve now found yourself in the middle of a dimly lit basement that overwhelmingly smells like beer and feet. Blinking into the darkness, you make your way to the makeshift bar but are prevented by your heels which are now stuck to some unidentifiable substance on the floor. You struggle not to gag and immediately regret not pre-gaming harder.

You find the closest pledge and make him grab you a drink. He comes back and attempts to hand you Natty Light or some other form of toilet water. Try again, honey. He returns with the slightly preferable jungle juice. One sip confirms your alcohol standards have definitely improved since freshman year. Trap Queen starts blaring from the speakers and you and your girls make your way to the dance floor, leaving the peasant juice on the nearest surface.

As soon as you begin to loosen up and enjoy yourself, some guy comes up behind and starts grinding on you. Which is totally fine until you glance over your shoulder and realize he’s at most a sophomore. Basically a child. Does his mother know he’s here? You quickly excuse yourself and make a beeline for the bathroom. You end up bonding with the five other girls you’re sharing a bathroom with, while wondering why there’s never any soap or toilet paper at these parties. You briefly ponder how the male species functions on its own save a few fortunate souls with girlfriends to make sure they practice daily hygiene. Oh well, it’s not your job to have all the answers.

You return to your girls and convince them to move on to the downtown bars. Right as you’re calling the Uber, you look up and notice some pretty girl getting hit on by a solid 6. Poor girl can do so much better. Almost reminds you of your younger self. You feel bad for her and make it your mission to rescue her.

“OMG! I haven’t seen you in foreverrrrr!!!” you squeal pulling her away. The drunken frat boy in question stumbles away to look for a less screechy conquest. The girl thanks you and you feel like a protective mom. Wow you’re old. You guide her in the direction of a more suitable match and hurry to catch up with your sisters. Before you leave, you take one last look at the couples making out, the girl crying in the corner, even the guy peeing in some sort of vase. For the first time that night, you don’t immediately think, “I can’t believe I shaved for this!” A sort of nostalgic fondness washes over you. In a few short months, you’ll be graduated and in spite of yourself, you’re gonna miss this.

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Snarky Srat

My hobbies and interests include everything that won't make me money. Now accepting rich husband applications.

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