Fred Fredrickson, a transfer student, was uninformed of WashU’s newly instated “No Fun” policies. The current police state reigning over Wash U’s social circle left Fred alone, confused, but ready to party.
“I just didn’t understand why absolutely nothing was happening on campus on a Saturday night,” said Fred, “and since I don’t have too many friends here yet, I took matters into my own hands.
Observing the ‘open-door policy,’ Onlookers were able to observe the festivities, and many marveled at Fred’s perseverance. He began the evening with a one-man pregame: he threw on a sleeveless jersey, some shorts, and played one-on-none beer-pong, tossing the ball against his wall and trying to land it in a cup on the floor. His celebrations were animalistic: he humped the ground, screamed vulgarities, and even flashed a little skin to distract–well–himself from hitting the shot.
The party soon moved to the dance floor, where one of Fred’s suite-mates reported,
“Fred was like a machine. He knew every popular dance of the last five years: The cupid shuffle, the laffy taffy, the thunderclap, the dougie, bernie, the wave, the worm, the chicken-head, the harlem shake, Beyonce’s ‘put a ring on it,’ the crip-walk, the moonwalk, the fist-pump, and more. He even took out a credit card and graphically re-enacted Saint Louis’ own Tip Drill”
Fred had purposely turned up his thermostat to 92 degrees in an attempt to recreate the Fraternity basement ambiance he had once cherished. Spectators later noted that Fred “absolutely reeked, and his shirt was completely discolored from the sweat.”
Fred’s night concluded with small-talk with the posters of rap artists on his walls. He discussed how indecisive he feels about declaring a major, and how his long distance relationship with his girlfriend from high school isn’t really working out. He just wants to do the whole “hook up thing” for a while.
Stumbling loudly to BD for some mozz sticks, Fred was approached by a fleet of 40 WUPD officers sporting small helmets and riding gigantic segues (somehow fitting inside of a dorm…), who claimed to have received over 2,000 noise complaints regarding the loner’s party. Echoes of “This is bogus….
BOGUS” rang through the 40 as Fred was dragged back to his room and tucked into bed, not before officers covered his forehead in crude Sharpie drawings. Fred is currently awaiting a ruling from the school’s judicial committee. The alleged noise complaints remain anonymous, and Fred was seen curled over in the Bear’s Den bathroom after visiting the omelet station the following morning.
Despite the unknown consequences and unbearable humiliation, this writer humbly applauds Fred’s attempt. You go, Fred.
Everyone enjoy fall break.