Inside Another Internal Hazing Inquiry

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(*The fraternity President, Pledge Trainer, Risk Management Chair, and Hazer 1 and 2 sit in the chapter room*)

(*The fraternity Alumni Advisor enters, angrily puts down his briefcase on the table, and opens it*)

Alumni Advisor: You assholes really outdid yourselves this time.

President: Sir, we’ve discussed it and we believe that the facts of the case…

Alumni Advisor: (*interrupting*) Thirteen pledges.

President: If you look at it, really, the evidence is all circumstantial…

Alumni Advisor: NAKED.

President: Circumstantial.

Alumni Advisor: With erections.

President: So circumstantial.

Alumni Advisor: On the front lawn.

President: Totally circumstantial as well.

Alumni Advisor: SHUT THE FUCK UP! It doesn’t matter if the evidence is circumstantial when you have a baker’s dozen worth of drunk, naked, sexually aroused PLEDGES standing on your front lawn at 3 o’clock in the morning.

President: Well when you put it like that…

Alumni Advisor: THAT’S THE ONLY WAY TO PUT IT! Do you know what Kappa’s house mother said to me on the phone this morning? She said that in all her years living there, that what happened last night was maybe the most disgusting, horrifying thing she had ever seen. Do you know three of the pledges tried to relieve themselves in Kappa’s bushes? But, they were hard, so they hit the window in front of the bushes instead. The window she was watching them from.

Hazer 1: Whoa. Talk about a “Peeping Mom, amiright? (*elbow nudges the President, who holds back a laugh*)

Alumni Advisor: Shut up you goddamn smartass. And do you want to know who had to clean that window?

Hazer 1: The Mexican cleaning service that cleans the sorority house twice a week?

Hazer 2: Someone on the house kitchen staff?

Pledge Trainer: Did the house mom say she had to? She’s like twelfth on the list of people who would clean that up. It sounds like she’s exaggerating.

Risk Management Chair: What else could she be exaggerating about? The boners, perhaps?

Alumni Advisor: Why, for the love of God, would Kappa’s house mother call me and lie about seeing thirteen erections.

Hazer 1: She’s kind of a lush, you know.

Hazer 2: And she might be into that kind of stuff. She’s sort of a perv, actually. One time, after one of their formals, I was fucked up.

Alumni Advisor: Charming.

Hazer 2: I mean, I couldn’t tell my dick from a donut.

Alumni Advisor: WHAT?

Hazer 2: You know, like one of those long donuts, not the round ones. You know what I mean.

Alumni Advisor: No I do not.

Hazer 2: Ahhh you know what I mean. Anyway, she had put out queso for an after party snack. I fucking inhaled that shit, and naturally it turned my insides into a sonic speed log flume. So I stumble around looking for a bathroom. Eventually I make my way into this dark room, and then I find a bathroom. So I’m sitting there, just beating this bowl up, and I look for some toilet reading. There’s just some Southern Livings and shit, and Paula Deen is on the cover of all of them. Just thinking about her food made me have to crap even harder. So much butter.

Alumni Advisor: It seems like you’re including a lot of unnecessary details here. Can you just get to the point.

Hazer 2: I’m getting there, damn. So anyway, I see this book. It’s called Love In The Time Of Cholera.

Alumni Advisor: So?

Hazer 2: SO!?! Dude, it was the house mom’s bathroom. I know that because she busted in like three minutes later and threw me out before I could even wipe, which was a nightmare, by the way.

Alumni Advisor: Again, SO WHAT?

Hazer 2: Love In The Time Of Cholera!?!? IT WAS HER BOOK! She was reading some old lady porn romance book about pervs who get off banging out people with diseases and shit! THAT’S FUCKED UP! Of course she could be making up the pledges having boners. I mean with a sexual appetite like that who knows…

Risk Management Chair: (*starts furiously scribbling into his notebook*) This is exactly the type of smear campaign we need to begin running immediately. She has to be discredited. Why didn’t you tell me this sooner?

Hazer 2: I don’t know, I forgot.

Alumni Advisor: Are you all fucking retarded?

(*a beat*)

Alumni Advisor (cont.): Yup. You’re all fucking retarded. That’s not a “porn book” it’s a Pulitzer Prize winning novel.

Hazer 1: Is there an erotica category for the Pulitzer Prize?

Alumni Advisor: NO!

Hazer 1: Oh. I must be thinking of the Nobel Prize then.

Alumni Advisor: My God.

President: I think we’d very much like God on our side right now.

Alumni Advisor: Just…just shut up and let’s get back to the point. Why in the hell were thirteen naked, sexually aroused…

Risk Management Chair: Allegedly sexually aroused. Let’s keep our language consistent here.

(*Alumni Advisor gives Risk Management Chair a look of pure hate*)

Alumni Advisor: Who the hell are you?

Risk Management Chair: I’m the Risk Management Chair.

Alumni Advisor: Great fucking job.

Risk Management Chair: I’m all over damage control sir. Don’t worry. I’m a PR major so I know what I’m doing. I intend to be the White House press secretary one day. Of course I plan on starting out in the corporate world first. You know, cover up some chemical spills that turn babies and fish retarded, maybe pay off the families of Dominican prostitutes who die in a frantic exit stampede at a beachside corporate retreat when the hotel catches fire because someone made the mistake of mixing blow and fondue. You know, corporate stuff. I figure being the fraternity’s risk management chair is the perfect first step on that career path.

Alumni Advisor: It sort of is….

Risk Management Chair: Knew it.

Alumni Advisor: Anyway. Why were thirteen naked, sexually aroused pledges on our front lawn last night. Yes or no, was this a part of some sick, homosexual hazing thing you guys do now that we don’t know about?

Pledge Trainer: NO! We do NOT “gay-ze,” sir.

Alumni Advisor: Then what the hell was going on?

Pledge Trainer: Well, the pledges were having their “free night” before hell week starts. Of course the “free night” actually just serves to make hell week all the worse because we get the pledges super fucked up…

Alumni Advisor: Okay I didn’t hear that.

Pledge Trainer: And then they’re hungover as balls and day one sucks that much worse.

Alumni Advisor: Didn’t hear that either.

Pledge Trainer: Anyway, we got the pledges a stripper…

Alumni Advisor: Okay well that’s against both nationals and university bylaws.

Pledge Trainer: I mean, like, against it against it?

Alumni Advisor: YES! How the fuck did they get on the lawn? Naked? Just fucking tell me? And I guess, what? The stripper made them aroused.

Hazer 1: Eh, sort of.

Hazer 2: See, we’re nice guys.

Alumni Advisor: I am terrified of what that statement prefaces.

Hazer 1: Strippers, they have such low self esteem.

Hazer 2: Especially these townie ones. I mean, they’re not even like, desperate, slutty hot. They have to do meth just to stay thin. After all, all they can afford to eat are Wendy’s value meals.

Hazer 1: They need that ice to work off the Frosties.

Hazer 2: Well put.

Hazer 1: So we thought we’d help out the stripper’s self esteem.

Alumni Advisor: (*dryly*) Wow, you guys are saints, really.

Hazer 1: (*sincerely*) Thank you.

Hazer 2: So to boost the stripper’s self esteem, we may or may not have slipped the pledges some Viagra.

Alumni Advisor: Good God.

Risk Management Chair: None of the erections lasted longer than four hours, right? I mean if we didn’t cause these pledges physical harm then I assume the Viagra dosage is irrelevant. The boners have to be dismissed.

Alumni Advisor: (*to Risk Management Chair*) You’re fired. (*To the rest of the group*) How the hell did the pledges get outside? And naked?

Hazer 1: Ah, simple answer. The stripper took most of their clothes, it was part of the act or something. Then, near the end of the act, when the pledges were down to their boxers and too drunk to function, the bouncer that came with the stripper pulled out a switchblade, made them take off the rest of their clothes, and the pair of them robbed the pledges at knifepoint. Took their wallets and shit. Most of them were passed out by this point. The thirteen who weren’t asleep ran away as soon as they had the chance. Unfortunately we had locked all the doors so they couldn’t get back in.

Alumni Advisor: And where were all of you!?!

President: I don’t know. Out. Passed out.. It was the pledges’ party. We left them alone.

Alumni Advisor: Leaving pledges alone in a fraternity house is like leaving a gaggle of drunk toddlers alone at a construction site. It’s irresponsible and dangerous. You’re all fucking idiots. Why didn’t you file a police report?

President: And tell them what?

Alumni Advisor: (*takes a moment*) Good point. And none of the pledges tried to fight off the ONE guy with a knife and a stripper?

President: They were naked and whacked out on Viagra. If that guy stabbed them in the dick they would’ve bled out…of their dicks. Plus that stripper had meth strength. I’ve seen her on the pole before. She’s got arms like a fucking chimp, man.

(*a beat*)

Alumni Advisor: So this wasn’t hazing?

President: No.

Alumni Advisor: It was just a normal completely illegal, fucked up situation gone horribly wrong?

President: Exactly.

Alumni Advisor: (*sighs*) I’ll call Kappa’s house mom and run damage control.

Risk Management Chair: So you are going to blackmail her for her disease fetish?

Alumni Advisor: God I hate this job. Until next time, morons.

(*Alumni Advisor gets up and leaves*)

Risk Management Chair: Am I really fired?

President: No, you’re doing a great job! I really admire that you went straight to blackmail. Keep up the good work.

Risk Management Chair: Thanks man, I really appreciate that. Anybody wanna get blackout drunk and shoot stuff with the water balloon launcher?

***


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Nice Move

Bacon

Bacon is Director of Video Content and a Senior Writer for Total Frat Move, Rowdy Gentleman, and Post Grad Problems. He is a graduate, without honors, from the University of Missouri. His fake best-selling novel series, The Frat Romance Novel, has been self-described as a "pioneering achievement in satirical erotica." Bacon is originally from St. Louis, and currently lives in Austin, Texas. He still has not admitted to his family what he does for a living, and is prone to having wet nightmares ever since losing his virginity in a haunted house. Email: rob@grandex.co

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Comments

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  1. 21
    The Baron

    Upper-decking the Kappa House Mom’s shitter, wiping your ass with her novel, and pissing on her toilet paper. It’s a TFM.

    ^ ThisTake a lapReply • 2 years ago
  2. 17
    The_ChiIis_Guy

    *UPDATE* Queso was not, in fact, involved in this post. I did some research into the Chili’s archives and there was no such queso present at the scene.

    ^ ThisTake a lapReply • 2 years ago
  3. 12
    IllumiNATTY

    This provided a bit of nostalgia, thanks bacon. It also brings back horrible flashbacks that no amount of alcohol could ever erase.

    ^ ThisTake a lapReply • 2 years ago

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