Thumper was not having a good time. This wasn't how parties were supposed to be. Parties were for "Bro-ing out," as it was sometimes called. The pressure to get laid was ruining his good time. The massive dose of liquid depressants may have had something to do with it too, but that may just be me being overly judgmental (so much for the pretense of objectivity, I suppose). There could be girls around. The problem was when they became the focus. The whole thing was silly to Thumper. Why should the best way to prove your manhood be to stick your penis inside of a woman?
There are some parties where it seems as if you'd be better off just packing it in. Not going downtown. Not going up to hang out in someone else's room. Not hopping down the row to some GDI get-together. Just getting in bed, closing your eyes, and admitting that the night had been a failure. There's no shame in that. If it weren't for those nights, the good ones wouldn't stand out so much (or some other "There's meaning in everything" bullshit positive spin). And our hero, Thumper, was seconds away from reaching that critical point when the bitter puss of abdication is the only fluid that could quench his emotional thirst.
"Hey, buddy. You wanna do a shot with me?" Dallas asked Thumper as he walked by.
Well, let's try one more fluid before the bitter puss of abdication.
"Sure," Thumper said. The specific shot, of course, didn't really matter at that point.
Dallas was one of those minor members. He was a junior, didn't live in the house, and, despite his name, had never been within the boundaries of Texas in his entire life. "Dallas" happened to be the name of a stripper who had stolen the wallet of one of the Brothers four years before. The name was handed down a couple pledge classes later.
"Hey, man," Thumper said. "That chick you making out with earlier; she was pretty hot."
"Thanks, Thumper."
"Are you guys, like, together?"
"Yeah. We've been dating for like two years now."
"Oh. Just making sure."
"Yeah. I definitely introduced her to you at formal last fall. And probably at least twice since then. I can do it again, if you want."
"No, that's okay," Thumper said as he sulked away. Now he was sure that he'd be spending the rest of his night sucking the bitter puss of abdication out of the open wound on his ego. Fucking women.
Just as Thumper was leaving the basement, however, he ran into Goldy.
"Where you going?" Goldy asked Thumper, his voice sounding especially dragged out at this moment when time had seemed to slow to a tortuous slog through a mire of failure.
"I think I'm just gonna call it a night. I'm pretty tired."
"Oh, so you got laid already?"
"No..."
"Good."
"Why's that good?" Thumper asked. Oh, if only he hadn't taken that shot. He could have been stripped down and sound asleep right now.
"Because I promised to help you out at dinner and I plan to do it." Apparently, Goldy had been more lucid that anyone had given him credit for.
"Really? How?"
"Girls love drugs."
"Goldy, I don't know if I'm really in the mood--"
"Look, you don't even have to do anything. I've got two girls that want to get high and I just need someone else to be up there so I don't have to listen to them talk on and on about their frivolous new money bullshit."
"Okay. I'll do it!"
The bitter puss of abdication would have to wait for now.
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