Doomsday Preppers: Fraternity Edition
Host: This week on Doomsday Preppers, the National Geographic team dives headfirst into the inner workings of a truly unique group of Preppers, the Sigma Epsilon Chi fraternity house at West State University.
[cut, floating head]
President: We just really want to be prepared you know, you never know what’s going to happen.
[cut, front yard of typical fraternity house, host walking towards camera]
Host: This group of 83 college students have taken it amongst themselves to prepare for a potentially apocalyptic scenario in the very near future. While the brothers of this house haven’t reached a consensus on what particular kind of doomsday they’re preparing for…
[cut, floating heads]
Brother 1: I’m completely convinced that Obama is going to buttfuck the economy into submission until I’m forced to scrape up $75 to the gallon to fill up my Tahoe.
Brother 2: Well, we ran out of Adderall last semester, and we heard about the national shortage, so that got us a little concerned…I mean we were all pissed off, so just imagine if the wackos who actually need it run out.
Brother 3: [holding beer, clearly blackout] IT’S THE FUCKING GEEDS! THEY’RE GONNA TAKE OVER BRO!
[cut back to host]
Host:…the overall consensus for the brothers is that the collapse of the world as we know it is truly imminent. Look now, as we observe some of the meticulous preparations these young men have made to ensure their ultimate survival.
[cut, president walking through frat house hallway, cases of beer line walls from floor to ceiling]
President: We’re definitely amateurs at this, but that doesn’t mean we haven’t taken some major precautions.
[enter room, also completely lined with beer. Davis seen sitting casually with laptop on throne made of beer cases]
President (CONT.): Clearly our first priority was the beers, cause fucking Davis over there told us you can survive for like, 8 months alone on that shit. And he’s Pre-Med, so I trust his word.
Davis: I’m Chemical Engineering, asshole.
President: Close-e-fucking-nough. But the beer is just the icing on the apocalyptic cake. Come downstairs to the kitchen, we’ll show you what’s really up.
[cut, fraternity kitchen, several pledges dressed in button downs and slacks seen unwrapping various fast food items, and vacuum sealing them in plastic bags.]
President: These are our pledges, and if they weren’t so FUCKING TERRIBLE AT PLEDGING…*ahem* they wouldn’t have to be doing all of the bitch work. As you can see we’re stocking up on all the staples every day, and we try to separate them by food groups.
[President picks up full vacuum sealed bag of McDoubles]
President (CONT.): Now, caloric intake can be a problem in an end-world situation, but not for us. In this bag alone, I’m holding a solid 400,000 calories, enough to feed a small army of obese 12 year olds. Suck on those balls, Joseph Kony. And it doesn’t stop there, the basement is full of these fuckers.
[Pledge in background puts down large bag of Crunchwrap Supremes, gives loud exhausted sigh]
President (CONT.): HEY SIMPSON DID I SAY YOU WERE FUCKING DONE? PICK THAT FUCKING BAG UP BEFORE I STAPLE IT TO YOUR HANDS.
[Simpson quickly gets back to Vacuum sealing]
President (CONT.): Anyways, where were we?
[cut, Host in fraternity house backyard, brothers seen in background playing beer pong as pledges perform ball retrieval duty]
Host: While this group’s policies may seem a little…unorthodox, in the area of self defense the brothers have spared no expense.
[cut to “armory,” room lined with guns, crossbows, ammunition, etc. with brother Jacobs (Arsenal Specialist) scanning the contents with a look of satisfaction on his face]
Jacobs: You can never be too safe considering the possibility of a zombie takeover.
[Jacobs picks up shotgun, pumps it victoriously]
[cut to Host, standing in chapter room]
Host: While food and safety are pivotal aspects of any doomsday preperation, the brothers of Sigma Epsilon Chi have also taken time to ensure that they can enjoy a few pleasures of the past, once the proverbial apocalypse comes.
[cut to President holding leaf of small plant]
President: Ah, this little fucker right here, this is a Coca plant. Barber got the seeds shipped to him from somewhere online, and it’s been smooth sailing ever since. We’re only about 5 months and 4 Columbian immigrants away from figuring out how to turn this little shit into cocaine. Because who the fuck wants to go through an apocalypse without a little blow?
[shots outside of house, as Host narrates over]
Host: We’ve seen the steps taken by these preppers, and now it’s time for our experts to weigh in on this group’s odds of survival.
[cut to shot of President, Jacobs, and Davis sitting on couch, all with drinks in hand looking at camera. Expert narrates off camera.]
Expert: Gentlemen, we have closely analyzed your doomsday plan, and have made the following observations, followed by a few suggestions you should take in order to properly ensure your survival.
Davis: [slurring, clearly drunk] Well? Get the fuck on with it.
Expert: Right. It seems that in your quest for stocking up survival gear, you missed a crucial element: the need for pure and clean water.
Davis: Is this fucker serious? Hey, dipshit, it’s called BEER. Anytime I’m thirsty in this imaginary fucking end of the world I’m just going to grab my keys and fucking shotgun a Keystone. Problem solved, next issue you tree hugging queerbait?
Expert: While your armory is quite impressive, further steps could be taken to ensure your protection, including barriers, close combat weapons, and an emergency escape plan.
Jacobs: [also drunk] Close combat? Escape? Listen here bitch, mother fucking George Washington didn’t give me the right to bear a 5.56mm killing machine so I could go into limp-dick shovel swinging pussy ass apocalypse mode. You know what? Fuck this shit, I’m out. [storms off camera]
President: Jacobs wait a goddamn second! We’re gonna be on TV man! Shit…anyways, you were saying?
Expert: After careful consideration, we’ve awarded you a survival score of 40 out of a possible 100…
Davis: Heh, got the same grade on my calc final. Goddamn Adderall drought.
[cut to host, in front yard again]
Host: That does it for this week’s episode of Doomsday Preppers on National Geographic. While these preppers have a little more work to do, it’s safe to say that this group would certainly be a leg up on the apocalyptic competition.
[Jacobs walks up, beer bong in hand]
Jacobs: Hey, man, no hard feelings. Want a funnel?
[Host looks at beer bong, looks at camera, shrugs]
[Fade to Black]