“Rockin’ It, Frat-Party Style!”

A Short Story Geared
to College Students, Written by a Thirty-Something Author

(Originally appeared on McSweeney’s, January 14 2005)

“What up, chief?” asked Larry. He had just finished soccer practice and was now sucking back on a bottle of his favorite brew, 40-Dog Buzz.

Nothing, friend,” said Kyle. They had been best buds for three years now. And Kyle knew absolutely everything about Larry. Including Larry’s intense hunger for “vagina.”

“How was math class?” asked Kyle, trying to get Larry’s goat. “Did you study for that test?”

“Fuck off, bitch!” said Larry. “You know damn well that I didn’t study for that test. What in the fuck?”

“Easy, friend,” said Kyle. “Just take it easy. I was only kidding.”

Larry laughed, as he knew that Kyle was merely being facetious. “So, are you planning on attending that party tonight?” he continued.

“Fuck yes!” answered Kyle. “And I plan to stick my penis into a loaf of bread. It should be kickin’.

“Just like last time!” said Larry.

Now it was Kyle’s turn to laugh. After he finished, he asked: “Better yet, how about that frat party we learned about on The World Wide Web? The one taking place in Florida? I’m thinking road trip!”

Larry thought for a minute, and then replied: “‘Cause I’m thinking the same. Let’s do it. And let’s invite Janet!”

Larry gave Kyle the high-five, and then climbed into his tremendous Sport Utility Vehicle, or S.U.V., complete with the most amazing stereo sound-system in the world.

“Kick out the jams, motherfucker!” screamed Kyle, from the passenger’s seat.

Larry did as he was asked, and within no time, Limp Bizkit [sic] was blasting from the nine Bose speakers and seven specialized sub-woofers that Larry had installed the previous month. The sound was absolutely monstrous.

Larry and Kyle gave each other another high-five, and then sped off through the university’s front gates to Janet’s house in the western, and more fancy, part of town.

Janet was already waiting for them. She looked ravenous: Extremely tight shorts, blue tank-top, open-toe sandals, breasts (soft and large) swinging to and fro. Exquisite.

“What’s the story, boys?” Janet asked, climbing into the back seat of the S.U.V., but not before Larry caught a quick glimpse of her tremendous right nipple.

Larry, Kyle and Janet had been friends forever. She treated them like brothers and they, in turn, treated her like a sister. A sister whose image they could fantasize about and then later, when it was dark, masturbate to.

“Nothin’,” answered Kyle, taking a swig from his freshly opened bottle of brewski. “Just high-tailin’ it down to Florida. For a little of this and that.”

“Sweet,” said Janet, absent-mindedly stroking her sweaty tank-top. “Freakin’ sweet.”

**********

It was a few hours later and Kyle, Larry and Janet were walking down the main avenue of Ft. Lauderdale, searching for the fraternity house they had read about on The Internet.

“Is that the house?” asked Janet. She was now wearing a pink bikini, flip flops and a shark-tooth necklace, the latest fashion rage.

“Don’t think so,” said Larry, popping open a fresh brew. He offered some to Kyle, who refused, on account of the marijuana joint he had just lit up.

“I’m so high that I could fly,” announced Kyle, taking a puff. “The world is all about colors and love and freedom!”

Larry and Janet laughed. It was nothing for them to see one of their friends “high,” but this was ridiculous.

“You could touch the moooon!” said Janet, now absent-mindedly pulling at her bathing suit top. “You’re that high!”

“Yo, easy, bitch!” said Kyle. And then: “Just kiddin’.”

Janet took no offense, as she was used to such behavior from Kyle. And besides, “bitch” was a term of endearment when used among good friends and close acquaintances.

“Where in the fuck is this party?” asked Larry, growing frustrated. “I could really use some ‘vagina.’”

“Easy, chooch,” replied Kyle, pointing to a large, all-glass house situated directly on the beach. “There it is. The answer to all of our dreams!”

Larry and Janet looked up at the same time. The frat house was beautiful. Just like Kyle had talked about: all glass and situated directly on the beach. It could not have been more perfect.

All three nervously walked up the white-concrete driveway to the front door. When they reached it, Larry pressed the doorbell. A song rang out. It sounded like “Californication” by the very popular funk and soul group Red Hot Chili Peppers, but they could not be sure.

“May I help you?” asked a deep and throaty voice from behind the tremendous solid-oak door. “This is a private fraternity party. No outsiders allowed!”

Larry and Kyle looked at each other. Shit, they thought. Fucking shit.

“Just kiddin’,” said the deep voice, as the door opened to reveal a gorgeous older woman dressed in a black cocktail dress, stilettos, and a gold chain necklace. Letting her voice rise to its normal level, she said: “I don’t always talk like that. Hi, my name is Nancy. And I’m twenty-six.”

Goddamn the monkey man! thought Larry. And then, aloud: “May we come in? We’ve traveled a long way for this party. We read about it on the AOL.com.”

“Right this way,” said Nancy, as she opened the front door and led all three into a huge, cavernous living room.

What they observed next absolutely amazed them, stunning them beyond belief:

Pyramids, 15 feet high, created with only empty beer cans!

Smoke from marijuana-cigarettes wafting toward the rafters above!

Large fraternity types placing compact discs into compact disc players!

Half-naked women, their breasts jingling and jangling, perched on the shoulders of football players!

Pizza pies, half-eaten, lazily strewn across expensive leather couches!

A fat man with a beard pouring vodka into a crystal punch bowl!

A rock and roll band playing very loudly!

A dog lying amidst all of this chaos, attempting to sleep!

“Aw, spit!” exclaimed Larry. “This is the best fraternity party that I’ve ever seen!”

Kyle could only nod. He agreed, but was too shocked to say anything.

Janet, on the other hand, could not stop talking: “This is incredible, absolutely incredible! I’ve always thought fraternity parties were supposed to be good, but this . . . this is not good. This is exquisite!”

Janet stopped talking. She looked over to Kyle, who looked over to Larry. And then, without another word, all three buds linked their arms together and walked directly into the amazing, cacophonous fray.

**********

“Peace.”

It was a few hours later and Kyle was turning off his miniature cellular telephone and placing it back into his T-shirt pocket.

“That was Nancy,” exclaimed Kyle. “She wanted to thank us for coming to the party. There sure was a lot of wonderful ‘vagina’!”

Janet rolled her eyes. “All I’ve heard since leaving the party is ‘vagina this’ and ‘vagina that.’ Enough!”

Kyle and Larry laughed long and hard.

When they were finished, Larry asked: “What’s the matter, bitch? Can’t take the heat? Just kiddin’.” He tapped the S.U.V.’s horn, which blasted out “Return of Saturn” by The No Doubt. He had it installed while he was down in Ft. Lauderdale, and it was smokin’.

“Yes, I’ll have you know,” replied Janet, “that I can very much take the heat. It’s just that I’m tired and could use some rest.” She absent-mindedly swiped at her sweaty left nipple and then at her right nipple, which was also sweaty.

“Easy, you two,” said Kyle, flicking on the tremendously powerful car-stereo system and popping in a compact disc by the musical group Korn [sic]. “Time to bust out the kick-ass tunes!”

The explosive sounds of alternative rock filled the car. Larry twisted open a fresh “brewski” and leaned back into the S.U.V.’s front passenger seat.

“Goodnight,” said Janet, reclining into her comfy backseat. “See you when I see you.”

“Until then!” exclaimed Kyle.

“On the other side,” said Larry.

Kyle and Larry hit each other’s fists in a non-violent manner to signify friendship. Then Kyle took another puff from his “reefer.”

College life is sweet, Janet thought, falling into a deep and gentle sleep. So goddamn sweet that it was motherfuckin’ ridiculous . . .

About the Author:

Mike Sacks is in his thirties. This is his first story about college students.