Day after day, alone at the college on the hill, I get up at 7:00 a.m. to get ready for my ten o'clock class. I make the trek across campus to my Biology 15 class and I sit down in the front row, middle seat -- 15 minutes early. As the more delinquent students trickle in minutes before class is about to start, I arrange my 14 colored pens and two notebooks in preparation for the lecture. As soon as the professor opens his mouth, I immediately raise my hand: "Will we be tested on the optional material that you said we would not have to know for the exam?" Some students around me snicker; I ignore them because I know they are the imbeciles who get Bs.
The professor begins his lecture and I furiously scribble his words down verbatim using my special color-coded note-taking technique: blue ink for general notes, red for definitions, turquoise for side notes, pink for things we have to know, yellow for graphs, green for charts, black for equations, and orange for questions asked by my brainless classmates. The professor pauses after asking a rhetorical question, so I shout out the answer and smile contentedly. After class, I talk with the professor and profess my love for him and his work. I tell him I want to bear his children.
Well on my way to Food Court, my head in a cloud, I see a couple friends waiting outside the entrance to Thayer Dining Hall. I decide that right in the middle of the doorway would be a good place to stop and chat with my friends for a while. Rude people try to push by us as they try to get into the building. I wonder why they don't find some other way to get in -- I mean, hello, we're talking here. After a while, I head inside to check blitz.
The line is pretty long since only one of the computers is working, but after a little waiting, I finally get to the computer. I realize that there is still some time before I'm supposed to meet my friend for lunch, so I proceed to read every blitz I have ever received in my entire three years at Dartmouth. I skim through all the messages in my inbox, trash and all 47 of my folders, and then start working on that novel that I've always thought about writing. This causes a great disturbance in the line behind me and several people's heads actually explode. I continue using the computer undeterred.
My friend shows up and we head into Food Court. I order turkey, ham, bacon, Swiss, lettuce and tomato on wheat with mayo. The sandwich lady tells me I could have made her job a little easier by just telling her I wanted a Club sandwich. Sure, I could've done that, but I don't care. I get to the register and realize I don't have my card. I hold up the line for five minutes while I check through all 76 of my pockets and then decide to pay in cash with a hundred dollar bill.
Nobody seems to like me, but I don't really care. So what if it's a Friday night and I'm studying? I get back to my room in East Wheelock and start writing a paper due next year. Down the hall, I can hear music and people talking and having fun. That makes me mad. So I call Safety and Security to inform them that someone on my hall is violating the sacred "Principles of Community." The S&S officer asks me if I have directly asked the person to be a little quieter. I reply that I haven't because I am afraid to talk to other people. S&S sends over a van, and as they are coming up the stairs to break up the party, I hide in my room under my blanket pretending to be asleep and laugh gleefully as my floormates get busted.
I've got a perfect system worked out: If someone in my building is loud, I call S&S. When someone sends me a mean blitz, I tell the dean. If someone writes a bad word on my door, I tell my UGA. If my professor gives me a bad grade, I tell my parents. When my roommate breaks something of mine, I call the police. If anything ever happens to me that I don't like -- I just tell on them! I mean, it worked in second grade, why shouldn't it work now?
I never listen to them -- I like taking pong so seriously. My partner misses a cup so I yell at him. "What the hell are you doing? We're playing pong here, not some freakin' game, jackass!" We end up losing the game so I chuck my paddle across the basement and hit some girl in the head. Haha. I call next on all three tables in the basement, and since I'm a brother, I get next on all three tables. I get bored of pong so I decide to boot all over the place. That gets old pretty fast, so I go upstairs and man the door and reject random people for no reason because I can and it makes me feel good. I go back downstairs, drink, boot, drink, boot and then head upstairs to raid my brothers' rooms for food. I piss all over myself and decide to piss on other people as well. Somewhere in the midst of all the pissing and booting, I pass out.
What a fool-filled day.
