After returning from rounds, I settled in to do a little more writing because pages upon pages of academic writing in one day just isn’t enough. Then came a tapping, a gentle rapping, rapping at my chamber door.
I peer out through the peephole designed for a basketball player and see a girl out there. I open the door and after I let her stare at me for a full ten seconds she said, “Hi. Does Jon live here?” I smirked a little and replied, “Jon lives across the hall but I think he went down to the RoFo.”
She blinked heavily and replied, “Oh, well do you mind if I come in and wait for him?”
“He doesn’t live here,” I said, slowly closing the door.
She begins to teter and asks, “Oh, well, can I wait out here for him?”
“You can do whatever you want,” I say, and shut the door.
“Oh,” I hear her mumble through the door and then she proceeds to hum.
I went back out and checked five minutes later and she was passed out on the steps. Drunk. Then I came back inside and sat down at my desk and heard a clanging and then some screaming. I go out there and Jon, drunk, high, whatever, is standing over the over-turned cigarette urn, yelling at it, and drunk girl is holding her head like it might fall off if she doesn’t. Jon smiles at me and apologizes and the drunk girl sort of giggles and tries to lift the ashtray.
“Go to bed, Jon,” I said.
“Make me,” he said, then smacked me on the ass and took off into the night with drunk girl in high heels trying depseratly to keep up. I had to pick up the urn. I’ve had enough. I’m going to be now.
Maybe you’ve had enough … or maybe you haven’t—MAYbe you need more spankings from your charges, Miss R.A.!
[...] is going on with my life and to remember things that make me laugh or cry. In fact your link to this particular blog made me feel kind of nostalgic for college when at the time I would have liked to rip all of your [...]