UC Sunnydale, Friday, October 5th, Evening

[fratboydooshbag]

So, school had been in session for about a month now, and Asher (or, 'Doosh,' as he was known to his roommate's personal narrative) had learned a lot of things:

*The business department had TONS of couches throughout the building, like they expected their students to nap and need some place to take chicks when their roommates were whiny bitches,

*It wasn't a stereotype that college chicks liked dudes in frats the best,

*His roommate was a whiny bitch.

Unfortunately for Doosh, the third fact made the first fact necessary (though he also appreciated the couches when he wanted to sleep through lecture and his whiny bitch roommate was yapping on the phone or at his computer like a 14 year old girl). Also unfortunately for douche, the second fact made the first fact useless for him right now. All the hot bitches he'd tried to mack on were only interested in dudes in the frat. And since he wasn't first-string football yet, he couldn't even use that instead!

But now that October was here, Rush Week had started. And Doosh had learned a few things about Rush Week, too.

*Zeta Lambda Psi was the frat to join, at least if you wanted to be anyone on campus.

*Zetas also threw THE BEST KEGGERS of all time.

*The number one freshman that all the frats were looking to recruit was, you guessed it, Doosh's own...whiny bitch roommate. Because he was loaded.

All of which meant two things: 1) Doosh needed Warren to rush Zeta with him to SECURE his chances of getting into the frat, and 2) that meant dragging Warren out to a party on a Friday night like a real college student, instead of leaving him behind to cry into an old pair of his girlfriend's panties or something.

Fuck.

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[wwiii]

It was probably important to note that, Friday night or not, there was an important test that Warren needed to take on Monday morning, bright and early. And, for as involved as he'd been in the frat back on Fandom Island (Kappa Kappa Gremlin for life!), none of the fraternities here were... really his speed.

Of course, Warren sort of functioned on a speed all his own, and he was perfectly willing to admit that.

Tonight, his speed was set firmly to 'study.' And he was hell-bent on at least getting the first five chapters of this text committed to memory before turning in to sleep for the night. He... was going to get to sleep tonight, right?