Advisor: Okay, I guess I’m going to start by asking you all to explain to me what you think happened today.
President:(*completely shitfaced*) Happened when?
Advisor: At the tailgate. The tailgate that I had to end thirty minutes ago. The tailgate that you’re all currently in trouble for.
President: Sorry…I’m still pretty drunk.
Advisor: Goddammit, you’re the one who’s supposed to be in control. You’re also only twenty-years-old!
(*President drunkenly shrugs*)
President: (*singing to the tune of 5 O’Clock Somewhere*) I’m twenty-one somewhere.
Advisor: No, no you’re not.
President:(*trying to explain*) It’s the Jimmy Buffett thing…
Advisor: I know what you’re trying to say, and it’s Alan Jackson you drunk fucking idiot.
President: No, no, no. AJ does the 9/11 stuff, not the 5 O’Clock stuff. Who’s the idiot now?
(*President laughs, looks around at the others for approval, receives none*)
Secretary: Technically Jimmy Buffett was a guest on that track.
Advisor: Goddammit I don’t care! Is there anyone sober enough to speak with me?
Vice President: I’m not that drunk…and twenty-one, if that helps.
Advisor: It’ll have to do. Please explain to me what the fuck happened at this tailgate today.
Vice President: I mean, we were just having our normal gameday fun…
Advisor: I’m going to stop you right there. This is the first game I’ve been up for this year, but am I to understand that your normal gameday routine now begins with you flying a flag that graphically depicts our opponent’s mascot being sodomized by a cartoonishly large, tiger striped penis?
Vice President: No, of course not. Not if the mascot doesn’t have an anus anyway. Then it’s not technically being sodomized. For example if we played Tulsa then the tiger cock would probably be fucking the eye of the “Golden Hurricane.” That’s not sodomy. I don’t know what that is. Skull fucking, maybe? But it’s not a real eye though. Sorry, I’m rambling.
Advisor: I don’t care what you call it, I don’t want anything perverted flying over the fraternity tailgate.
Vice President: Okay, well, what do you mean by perverted? Can two mascots be having consensual vaginal intercourse on the flag? With the tiger being on top? But then that doesn’t convey the right message really…
President: If we’re trying to display dominance then if the other mascot’s getting fucked hard, that might work. Then, you know, it’s consensual but it’s still getting fucked…hard. It’s getting owned, but it likes it. Also we’ll make the tiger dick fuck the pussy, not the b-hole. Does that work?
Secretary: Can animals and cyclones or whatever even have consensual sex?
Vice President: Well these aren’t normal animals, they’re mascots, they’re sentient. So yeah, totally.
Secretary: Ohhhhh. Makes sense.
(*Advisor face palms*)
President: Boom. Aaaaand we’re off on a technicality. Well this meeting has been dandy and all but I have an out to black…
Advisor:(*to the President*) Shut up! (*To everyone else*) That’s only my first problem with today’s “festivities.”
Secretary: This might not be the right time for this question but to go back to the mascot sex flag, when you say “graphically sodomized” does that mean you thought the drawing was good? I’m only asking because I designed it and, you know, I always like feedback on my work…
Advisor: Holy shit this might be the most absurdly stupid E-Board I’ve ever seen.
Vice President: Really? Dumber than the ’93 E-Board that threw that legendary Jurassic Park themed party that got us kicked off campus?
Treasurer: Oh yeah, the one where the E-Board got blackout while they were planning the party and decided that it needed “real dinosaurs,” so they ordered a bunch of “raptors.” When their “raptors,” which the E-Board completely forgot they ordered, showed up to the party it turned out to be a bird trainer with bunch of hawks and eagles and shit. He thought he was there for a special educational demonstration. Then, because they were so shitfaced and excited, the E-Board let all the birds loose in the house and like nine people got rabies. One poor girl lost an eye. Plus all the birds died, either from panic induced heart attacks or from being beaten to death with tennis racquets and golf clubs by a group of drunk actives attempting to subdue the birds. Yeah, I remember that.
Advisor: How do you know about that party?
Treasurer: All the lawsuits from that night are still in our financial records. I think the fraternity is still paying off like two of them.
Vice President: ’93? Weren’t you on that E-Board?
President: Plus I heard someone stole that trainer guy’s leather glove thing. Those are expensive. Thick, raptor proof leather like that isn’t cheap. He was just a simple, blue collar dinosaur owner…. you’re a dick.
Advisor: That party was regrettable, but I think you all underestimate how huge Jurassic Park was in 1993. Moving on. Do you realize how many underage drinkers there were at your tailgate?
President: No, but that’s just because we don’t care so we literally have no idea.
Advisor: Well there were a lot.
Vice President:(*to the President*) Let me handle this. (*to the Advisor*) No we have no way of knowing that. I’m sure there were some, but it’s a tailgate. People wander in and out. There’s only so much we can do.
Advisor: That’d be a fair point, if I didn’t see one of the larger actives, who I believe is the pledge trainer, shout at a pledge and that pledge’s girlfriend something along the lines of, “This twenty-year-old scotch is older than you, chug this shit you bleeding queef pledge! Tell your gash that she’s chuggin’ too or I’m gonna rob your cradle, get her pregnant, and make you raise my retarded baby.”
(*All of E-Board stifles their laughter, except for the President, who openly laughs*)
Advisor: I don’t even know where to start with that one, guys.
Vice President: I’m pretty sure that girl’s name is actually Laura Gash.
Advisor: No, it’s not.
Vice President:(*sighs*) No…no it’s not.
Advisor: We DO NOT treat women like that…
Vice President: If it’s any consolation we normally don’t. She was just sort of collateral damage with the pledge.
Advisor: And you shouldn’t be letting underage kids drink, let alone FORCING them to drink.
Vice President: Okay, can’t argue with that. Is there anything else you’d like us to refrain from doing at the next tailgate?
Advisor: Well I guess the number one thing I’d like you to refrain from doing, the thing I’m actually the most angry about, is your treatment of the police.
Vice President: Specifically?
Advisor: Specifically!?! Specifically stealing their bikes when they ride up and dismount! Specifically playing that anti-police song by Ice-T!
Vice President: Whoa, whoa, whoa! Ice-T sang “Cop Killer.” We would never play that song in front of cops, we have more respect for our local law enforcement than that. C’mon. No, what we played was NWA’s “Fuck tha Police.” I thought you were in school when these songs came out.
Advisor: I was more of an Aerosmith guy.
Advisor: Hey, this was long before the movie Armageddon… you know what, I don’t have to explain myself…
President: Still gay.
Advisor:(*to the President*) You’re on damn thin ice. I have a right mind to impeach your ass. (*to the rest of E-Board*) And anyway, I’d also appreciate it if your dumbass members would refrain from ordering the pledges to hit each other in the face until they get bloody noses and then film them on the ground in front of the police to make it look like the officers had brutalized them in order to blackmail your way out of a couple MIPs.
(*the Advisor pauses for a moment*)
Advisor: You’re all terrible people. Jesus Christ. The more I think about it the more I wonder if anyone in this house contributes anything to society.
Treasurer: Our philanthropy raised forty thousand dollars for its charity last semester.
Advisor: Oh yeah? What charity is that?
Treasurer: It’s a small organization. It raises money for victims of wild animal attacks. Victims of bird attacks have first priority for the money we raise, although admittedly there haven’t been many of those… not since ’93 anyway. When we re-colonized in ’99 the founding fathers thought adopting that charity would be a good PR move. You see, this chapter is all about making amends.
(*the Advisor considers this for a moment*)
Advisor: From now on the tiger is eating its opponent. I don’t care how violent it is, but no sodomy. No more framing the police for beatings they didn’t commit. As for everything else…conduct yourselves…responsibly.
(*the Advisor gets up to leave, stops, and turns around*)
Advisor: All of you are still fucking idiots.
President: Who the fuck was that guy? That was someone’s dad, right? Was that Laura Gash’s dad? He was pissed, huh? Oh fuck did the pledge trainer actually get her pregnant?
Vice President: You aren’t good at your job.