Party Pat: The Conception
As the legend of Party Pat has spread from his origin in Ohio throughout fraternity and sorority houses around the nation, a peculiar shroud of ambiguity has begun to envelop the story. Who is the real Party Pat? How does he get so drunk but still manage to dance so smoothly? How was he made? These are all valid and important questions that need to be asked.
The answer to the first question is simple; he is who you think he is, an all American fraternity legend. The answer to the second question is unknown, but under immense scientific scrutiny. Nearly half of the recent $100 million donation to The Ohio State University Medical Center has been devoted entirely to research on Party Pat, and how his liver and brain have managed to tolerate the exuberant amounts of alcohol forced into them for the past three years. The answer to the last question, “Where did this man come from?” I will answer for you now.
The year was 1990. A man in his early 30s had just opened up his OBGYN practice, and had begun to establish himself in one of the prosperous suburbs of Cincinnati. He had realized years before that life was about two things: helping other people, and vaginas. So, he pursued the most logical career choice, and before long, was the go-to guy in southeast Ohio for any venereal needs. This line of work was financially fruitful and helped satisfy his insatiable curiosity about vaginas. However, he didn’t have much time to go out and meet women with his busy work schedule while focusing on setting up his new practice. Finally, he decided he both needed and deserved a break, and he took a week long vacation with some of his fraternity brothers to a nice hotel in Cancun, Mexico. He figured a week in the sun drinking with his pledge brothers and hitting on younger women would be a nice, relaxing break from the stress of the real world. He didn’t know the trip would change his life forever.
After five days of doing what anyone would do in Cancun with their good friends — blacking out on the beach and having sexual relations with college-aged attractive women — the older guys were getting worn down and decided to take it easier during the day in preparation for their last night. All except for the doctor, who was downing Corona buckets like they were water, and he had just eaten a bunch of jalapeños. To celebrate their last night, they went out to a nice dinner where the doctor struggled to maintain his composure. He downed the most expensive bottle of wine they served in minutes, by himself, and refused to order any food because they didn’t serve cheeseburgers and only had their prices in pesos. Cries of “This is America goddammit! I want a fucking cheeseburger!” and “Why the fuck did we come here? If I wanted to eat diarrhea with sour cream and cheese on it I would have gone to Taco Bell at home!” echoed through the restaurant until his friends finally subdued him with a whiskey sour and a steak.
His friends purposefully drug out the dinner for awhile when they figured out the waitress was refusing to serve him any more drinks, so that he could get a little more sober while they caught up. After dinner, when he was slightly more functional and they were on his level, they headed to the mecca of drunk college girls in Cancun, Señor Frogs. The night was going much like the previous nights they had during that week — a few sloppy drunk make outs, rounds of tequila shots with the guys, and a plethora of rejections from women when he used the line, “I’m a gynecologist and would be happy to have a taste.”
The night was winding down, and they guys were thinking about going home, when the doctor caught something out of the corner of his eye which would change his life forever. He turned his head and gazed upon the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. She appeared to be in her late 20s, bronzed skin, blond hair, and boobs which would be worth annihilating all of man kind with nuclear weapons just to get a squeeze of. They were large, yet perky. Classily covered yet incredibly tempting, frighteningly intimidating yet peacefully safe. As she began to walk towards the bar she stood directly under a cooling vent, causing her nipples to harden and become visible through her shirt. The doctor hadn’t been this aroused since the first time he felt box. He quickly swooped his hair and formulated an opening line, then closed in for the approach.
“Hello there,” said the doctor to the beautiful woman, “Did you just fart?”
“Excuse me?” she replied.
“Because you just blew me away,” quipped the doctor, a clever tactic he had picked up in college.
“Interesting…” she replied. He was beginning to lose her. This was no sorority slut that was going to be seduced simply by using an effective, clever pick up line.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “I just get nervous around very beautiful women. Would you like to sit down and have a drink?”
He just wanted a chance to get to know her and seem like a good guy so he would have a real chance to establish a connection. Just kidding, he was going to mention how he was a rich doctor, flash his Rolex, and hope that could get her in the sack.
After about 15 minutes of small talk, he figured out she had been a professional dancer and model and was just about to open up a studio in, coincidentally enough, Cincinnati. Despite the doctor’s original intentions, they did begin to establish a connection and got along quite well. She came back to the hotel room with him after their drinks and one thing lead to another. Eventually, they made sweet, passionate Mexican love in the shower. What the doctor didn’t know was that Mexican made condoms have lower standards than American made ones and are liable to break. Not that this mattered, the doctor didn’t use condoms. Despite his training in school, he still believed that women couldn’t get pregnant if they were on top due to gravity. So like any logical person would do, when it came time to bust his man seed, he quickly hopped out of the shower and sat on the toilet seat with her joining him on his lap.
They woke up the next morning, exchanged numbers, and talked about a possible date back in Cincinnati. They ended up going on a couple dates at home but didn’t see each other much because of work, until the doctor got the call that shattered his world. She was pregnant, and he was the father. On the positive side, he had managed to lock down those perfectly sculpted tits for life. On the downside, his chances of having a fun trip with his pledge brothers to Mexico any time in the next 18 years were pretty much shot to hell.
Approximately nine months later, the legend we know as Party Pat came shooting out of his mother’s vagina, into the hands of his father. This day not only marked the birth of an American icon, but also the delivery of the most intense and satisfying female orgasm ever achieved, solidifying Party Pat as the international sex symbol he is today.