My Morning From Hell Part 1

I awoke, confused, to the intro guitar riff from Skynyrd’s “Simple Man.” After a brief thought that I had somehow entered Southern Rock Heaven with Ronnie Van Zant serenading my journey to the great beyond, I realized the actual culprit: alarm clock radio. This comforted me for a moment, until I realized it wasn’t the Target-bought neon blue device that I was used to. It was then I took note of my surroundings.

Sorority paddles on the wall. Lilly Pulitzer bedspread that was oddly reminiscent of an 80-year-old grandmother’s beach umbrella. An obnoxiously large dry-erase board with only two notes scribbled on its surface: “Study Physics” and “Don’t forget to take BC!” A sigh of relief instantly came over me, as I vaguely recalled “forgetting” to bring a condom out the night before. It became ever apparent that I was a victim of a blackout sorostitute shacking. Mysteriously enough, the hostess of my evening was nowhere to be found, nor were my pants. I scoured the endless big/little pictures on the wall, and was able to ascertain my midnight conquest’s identity. This would have been helpful, but I literally had no recollection of ever speaking a word to this girl, and all I had to go on was a fleeting thought of “Hey, at least she’s pretty hot.”

After a minor internal debate regarding the logistics of a possible morning BJ, I felt a maelstrom of dread overtake me. I had a mandatory in-class marketing quiz in thirty minutes, and I had no idea where the hell I was. I didn’t recognize the style of apartment complex, and gazing out the window offered no hints to speak of. In my haze of confusion I considered stepping out of my mystery woman’s room, until I remembered my missing pants and my now-regrettable decision to go “commando” the night before. As badly as I needed to relocate, I didn’t think that running around an apartment complex in a bottomless fury would be received too well, and for all I knew I could be anywhere from one to five hundred miles from my classroom.

Given the desperate situation, I gently cracked open her door to get a glimpse of the surrounding apartment. More paddles, more pictures, more flowery-vomit print Lilly, but no roommates. I was in the clear. I stepped into the living room, still very much naked, and picked up the first piece of mail I saw. I recognized the address as an apartment complex a mere ten minutes from my quiz-taking mecca.

Miraculously, my phone and wallet lay untouched on the bedside table, and I had just enough battery for one phone call.

“Thank you for calling the esteemed gentlemen of *** fraternity, this is lowly pledge Michael how can I help you today?”

“Well hello there Michael. This is most esteemed brother ***** *****, and I need a ride right now. I’m at **** apartment complex, get your ass over here. Also, what’s your pants size?”

I conveniently forgot to mention to him why I asked this final question, and abstained from telling him to actually bring an extra pair. There’s never a bad time to humiliate pledges.

“Finally, some luck.” I thought to myself, up until I heard the subtle jiggle of the front door handle. Without thinking, I performed a ridiculous leisure-dive inspired aerial maneuver to position myself adequately hidden behind the couch. I held my breath in the midst of all the naked confusion, and couldn’t help but shut my eyes as the door began to swing open…


    1. DelTCFP

      Also, it appears that the users of this site have just stumbled upon the word “maelstrom.” Its in just about every story telling esque column

      13 years ago at 4:19 pm
    1. CityOfBrologna

      Agreed. StuffFratPeopleLike is trying way too hard. And after that stupid ass Ron Jeremy column I just can’t take him seriously.

      13 years ago at 9:29 am