Social
By Jeff Stone
April 15, 2023
April 15, 2023
CW: mentions of hazing, substance abuse, sexual assault
Author note: While this is a work of fiction, the content depicts actions and outcomes that sadly have occurred on college campuses for decades.
Author note: While this is a work of fiction, the content depicts actions and outcomes that sadly have occurred on college campuses for decades.
Chad Boyer’s day had come. Not even a most horrid hangover could flag his spirits this morning. He had just been elected Social Chair, the mountain top of his fraternity life. This achievement follows years at the feet of past, now graduated, social chair legends.
Tommy Curtis, Will Simmons, and Chris Tunstall all “brought-it”— each with his own flair and set of ideas that contributed to the traditions that made the fraternity what it was.
Chad understood that “the party” was the core of the brotherhood. It really wasn’t the rituals, charity fundraising (of which most dollars went to buying kegs), or padding that first resume. It was “the party.” And not just partying but the art of constructing the perfect party. A high level of focus and structure was put forth by the greats.
The NASCAR season starts with its most important race at Daytona. The same can be said for Pi Gamma, where the first party is the grandest. The Buccaneer Bash sets the tone for the school year. It is also exclusive. You must be a brother in the fraternity or be given a ticket by a brother to attend. These tickets invariably end up in the hands of young, attractive women.
The fraternity spent more money each year on The Bash, with last year’s total closing in on $10,000. This amount was apportioned from dues each brother paid in the fall, funded largely by parents. Doctors, lawyers, teachers, firemen, and engineers set aside $1,000 per semester for their son’s fraternity, who then spent 80% of those dollars on “events.” And of that event budget, 60% went to funding The Bash.
Chad Boyer had worked out an approved budget with the new fraternity president and treasurer. Procurement wasn’t a word used between them, but it was accurate. The Bash supply list--
16 large plastic trash cans (new)
13 boxes of contractor black trash bags
25 handles of Popov vodka
82 quarts of Lime-Aid concentrate
8 boxes of kosher salt
15 rolls of duct tape
5 large-sized tarps
10 boxes of condoms, ribbed
As many rolls of paper towels as could fit in Chad Boyer’s long-bed pickup truck
15 kegs of beer
Some items were not on the official list but needed “procuring” just the same. Several 8-balls of cocaine were to be placed in “The Roost” of the fraternity house. The quality of the product would be solid this early in the school year. Chad didn’t often partake and rarely visited “The Roost,” but those brothers who ruled over it were a faction with some influence.
All pledges were in service to Social Chair Boyer for 24 hours prior to The Bash. A usual Friday in early fall would involve cleaning brother’s rooms, handling the house laundry, drinking large quantities of alcohol, varied on-campus humiliation, and attending classes. However, these activities were suspended in preparation for The Bash.
Pi Gamma’s fall rush effort delivered an impressively sized pledge class. The number—22 in all—allowing for attrition, as not all would make it through the semester. Some would be black-balled, some would fail out of school, and others would quit from exhaustion (mental, physical, both). If pledging was easy, would becoming a brother mean as much? And the shared struggles brought the pledge class—all freshmen—closer together.
The pledge class was eager to please Chad. He was seen as safer to be around than most brothers. And they knew this sort of work would produce multiple opportunities to hook-up with young first-year girls (or ‘talent’). Many of them freshly held the memory of their own move-in day, just weeks earlier, when the brothers of Pi Gamma would chant at departing parents from the fraternity house porch, “Don’t Leave Your Daughter! Don’t Leave Your Daughter!”
Chad organized workstations across the vast backyard of the fraternity house. While there were decorations to be placed and lights to string, the main business at hand was producing the traditional cocktail for this annual affair, playfully referred to as “Skip N’ Go Naked.” This concoction effectively masked the amounts of alcohol within it and tended to loosen up consumers over an afternoon. On a warm day, party-goers (with no water provided) would be eager to drink.
Yes, trash cans. New, and for now clean, and lined with the contractor bags. Then filled with “Skip N’ Go Naked.” Each workstation had a can and a piece of paper taped to it with the exact ratios of ingredients to mix.
After each can was filled there was a time-honored flourish—two handfuls of backyard grass thrown in, then stirred with a canoe paddle so that each solo cupful had a little mother nature in it. Two cocktail cans were for pledges only, and those substituted the grass for a handful of pubic hair. Again, if pledging was easy...
Within the yard, there were make-shift drinking game stations set up. Cups configured into pyramids, packaged ping pong balls, cards, and Jenga pieces were at the guests' disposal. Chad learned from the greats that gaming aided in lubricating the gears of all involved.
There was a distinct process and path to this party. The Bash started in the yard and then would naturally move students indoors as the sun set. Once inside, the main floor’s layout encouraged dancing and more drinking games. The outer ring of the floor had designated “Rec-Rooms” for hook-ups; auxiliary “Rec Rooms” were available on the 2nd and 3rd floors.
Chad Boyer had learned about the proper flow concept from the last Social Chair, Tommy Curtis. He explained to Chad that these were kids, and they couldn’t be expected to understand how to get and keep a party going. There had to be a point A that led to a point Z. The higher percentage of fraternity brothers that collected guests from the trash can cocktails (A) and received them in “Rec Rooms” (Z), the better the party would ultimately grade out.
Tommy joined a hedge fund company upon graduation and was killing it.
THE AFTER BASH
Jim Ferguson was called out of a meeting Monday morning; it was the Dean of Students at his daughter’s school.
They said Sarah was fine but shaken up from a fraternity party she attended over the weekend. Sarah had ended up in the emergency room after her roommate found her unresponsive in the shower at 4 am.
Both girls had their stomachs pumped, which the Dean said sounded worse than it actually was. He explained that it was a right of passage for some kids—sort of a first-hand wake-up call on the limits of imbibement.
The Dean said he expected she’d be released later this morning and that he might want to ring
University Medical for an update.
****
Anthony Gallo found himself completely naked in the back of one of his pledge brother’s Jeep. The sun woke him painfully. He was alone. What could he piece together? Very little at first as his head throbbed and stomach churned. A half-empty bottle of Gatorade was on the bench seat. He took a deep draw from it.
Anthony looked in the rearview mirror and smirked as he read the message scrawled on his forehead in Sharpie marker—“Mr. Pussy.” Was this a compliment or a cut? Perhaps that was its genius, that it could be both.
He did find his clothes. His jeans were drenched in urine. Perhaps a clue as to why he stripped down.
He checked his phone and realized he’d better get back to the Pi Gamm house to meet up with his pledge class. They would be cleaning every bit of that house, the worst of which involved the “Rec Rooms.” The “Rec Rooms”...a vague, sloppy memory of Anthony’s was triggered.
What was her name? It didn’t matter to some, but it mattered to him. To at least remember the names. She was a freshman, very cute, and smashed. He remembered trying to pace himself and keep it together so that he could actually “perform” should the opportunity present itself. Nothing more embarrassing than pulling up limp.
He didn’t have to do much encouragement, as they practically fell through a “Rec Room” door and onto a giant beanbag. He had hung the black lights himself just yesterday, and he remembered admiring them for a moment.
She couldn’t stop laughing—just laughing and laughing. “Skip N’ Go Naked,” the elixir of the Gods.
He remembered kissing her and feeling out where this could go. For the life of him, he could remember nothing else—black-out city. By the looks “of things” now, they had sex. Or at least the attempt was made. He was unsure if he delivered, having not paced himself as well as he’d hoped.
If he were to see her on campus, he’d have to decide whether to smile, wave, or just avoid her altogether.
****
Sarah’s Dad pulled his Volvo into the patient parking lot at University Med. He quickly checked his phone for any work emails before he went in. He made the decision not to tell her mother about all of this just yet. It was a 3-hour trip, and if he were there for a couple of hours, he’d be back before dinner. It would look like a day at the office.
Marching across the lot and through the sliding doors, Jim Ferguson was deciding what tack to take with his daughter. Soft and understanding, sharing a few college-aged mishaps of his own. Or to take a hard stance, reinforcing the need to take better care of herself. When you lose control of yourself, you’re just asking to be a victim.
****
I was excited to receive an invite; it was like a “golden ticket.” Not everyone on our hall got one. I needed the right outfit. Something that caught attention but didn’t look like I was trying too hard. I was able to get another ticket for my roommate, Ashley. Ash and I would buddy up.
I told my Dad this when he came to the hospital. I told him that I did buddy up; that I was with Ash.
Ash and I played some games and met some other girls who seemed more interested in angling on certain fraternity members than getting to know us. The pledge brothers ran the games and made sure everyone had what they needed—mainly a full solo cup.
As the sun set, we all moved inside. It was amazing, visceral, and also increasingly out of control. I remember laughing in a room away from the party; I couldn’t stop laughing. Then I am in a shower, in my clothes, then dragged out. Ash is there, she is crying and stumbling around. Then I am being examined by a nurse. She is talking about where she and the other nurse should have lunch later as she pushes a tube down my throat. I feel a growing pain in my vagina as they pump my stomach.
I hear a doctor talking to someone at school about my “condition.” About calling family, as I’m still 17.
They gave me a couple of pills...three of them, small and white. They help with the pain in my throat and head. My emotions go gray. They make my conversation with Dad harder to follow and understand. He’s talking about his college days; he’s talking about being reckless. He’s asking questions that I can’t answer and wouldn’t want to answer to him, even if I did know. I feel broken.
Ash kisses my head as she leaves. She has a Rush meeting.
****
Within two weeks of The Buccaneer Bash, Sarah left school, her roommate started pledging Pi Gamma’s sister sorority, and the Dean of Students received 16 varied complaints stemming from the event. That was a low number, and the Dean was relieved. They were your garden variety sexual and physical assault cases that would go through the usual campus court process, where the fog would clear, or just as often, not.
The silver lining about this era of college students was that there were less fights and fewer assaults on gay students. Also, the overall lack of memory (with the combination of booze and the strength of drugs) made “certainty” less possible. Many perpetrators and victims of assault don’t recall incidents at all; they just wake up somewhere dirty, hurt, and confused.
For the Dean, less paperwork was a welcome outcome.
****
GRADING OUT
Every drop of “Skip N’ Go Naked” was drunk. The trash cans were emptied and turned over. One was the puke can, to be cleaned by “Gutter Boy”—always the designation of the shortest pledge.
The house was cleaned within hours by the best-damned pledge class anyone could remember. Who knows, they all might get in after all.
At the Sunday fraternity meeting, Chad Boyer received a round of applause. Even the seven sweethearts, one of whom was Chad’s girlfriend, joined in.
After singing the sweetheart tune to the brotherhood, they exited to their own sorority meeting. Official dealings began. The first order of new business was a discussion on fundraising for the next massive event, Winter Wunderland.
Chad had more work to do.
Tommy Curtis, Will Simmons, and Chris Tunstall all “brought-it”— each with his own flair and set of ideas that contributed to the traditions that made the fraternity what it was.
Chad understood that “the party” was the core of the brotherhood. It really wasn’t the rituals, charity fundraising (of which most dollars went to buying kegs), or padding that first resume. It was “the party.” And not just partying but the art of constructing the perfect party. A high level of focus and structure was put forth by the greats.
The NASCAR season starts with its most important race at Daytona. The same can be said for Pi Gamma, where the first party is the grandest. The Buccaneer Bash sets the tone for the school year. It is also exclusive. You must be a brother in the fraternity or be given a ticket by a brother to attend. These tickets invariably end up in the hands of young, attractive women.
The fraternity spent more money each year on The Bash, with last year’s total closing in on $10,000. This amount was apportioned from dues each brother paid in the fall, funded largely by parents. Doctors, lawyers, teachers, firemen, and engineers set aside $1,000 per semester for their son’s fraternity, who then spent 80% of those dollars on “events.” And of that event budget, 60% went to funding The Bash.
Chad Boyer had worked out an approved budget with the new fraternity president and treasurer. Procurement wasn’t a word used between them, but it was accurate. The Bash supply list--
16 large plastic trash cans (new)
13 boxes of contractor black trash bags
25 handles of Popov vodka
82 quarts of Lime-Aid concentrate
8 boxes of kosher salt
15 rolls of duct tape
5 large-sized tarps
10 boxes of condoms, ribbed
As many rolls of paper towels as could fit in Chad Boyer’s long-bed pickup truck
15 kegs of beer
Some items were not on the official list but needed “procuring” just the same. Several 8-balls of cocaine were to be placed in “The Roost” of the fraternity house. The quality of the product would be solid this early in the school year. Chad didn’t often partake and rarely visited “The Roost,” but those brothers who ruled over it were a faction with some influence.
All pledges were in service to Social Chair Boyer for 24 hours prior to The Bash. A usual Friday in early fall would involve cleaning brother’s rooms, handling the house laundry, drinking large quantities of alcohol, varied on-campus humiliation, and attending classes. However, these activities were suspended in preparation for The Bash.
Pi Gamma’s fall rush effort delivered an impressively sized pledge class. The number—22 in all—allowing for attrition, as not all would make it through the semester. Some would be black-balled, some would fail out of school, and others would quit from exhaustion (mental, physical, both). If pledging was easy, would becoming a brother mean as much? And the shared struggles brought the pledge class—all freshmen—closer together.
The pledge class was eager to please Chad. He was seen as safer to be around than most brothers. And they knew this sort of work would produce multiple opportunities to hook-up with young first-year girls (or ‘talent’). Many of them freshly held the memory of their own move-in day, just weeks earlier, when the brothers of Pi Gamma would chant at departing parents from the fraternity house porch, “Don’t Leave Your Daughter! Don’t Leave Your Daughter!”
Chad organized workstations across the vast backyard of the fraternity house. While there were decorations to be placed and lights to string, the main business at hand was producing the traditional cocktail for this annual affair, playfully referred to as “Skip N’ Go Naked.” This concoction effectively masked the amounts of alcohol within it and tended to loosen up consumers over an afternoon. On a warm day, party-goers (with no water provided) would be eager to drink.
Yes, trash cans. New, and for now clean, and lined with the contractor bags. Then filled with “Skip N’ Go Naked.” Each workstation had a can and a piece of paper taped to it with the exact ratios of ingredients to mix.
After each can was filled there was a time-honored flourish—two handfuls of backyard grass thrown in, then stirred with a canoe paddle so that each solo cupful had a little mother nature in it. Two cocktail cans were for pledges only, and those substituted the grass for a handful of pubic hair. Again, if pledging was easy...
Within the yard, there were make-shift drinking game stations set up. Cups configured into pyramids, packaged ping pong balls, cards, and Jenga pieces were at the guests' disposal. Chad learned from the greats that gaming aided in lubricating the gears of all involved.
There was a distinct process and path to this party. The Bash started in the yard and then would naturally move students indoors as the sun set. Once inside, the main floor’s layout encouraged dancing and more drinking games. The outer ring of the floor had designated “Rec-Rooms” for hook-ups; auxiliary “Rec Rooms” were available on the 2nd and 3rd floors.
Chad Boyer had learned about the proper flow concept from the last Social Chair, Tommy Curtis. He explained to Chad that these were kids, and they couldn’t be expected to understand how to get and keep a party going. There had to be a point A that led to a point Z. The higher percentage of fraternity brothers that collected guests from the trash can cocktails (A) and received them in “Rec Rooms” (Z), the better the party would ultimately grade out.
Tommy joined a hedge fund company upon graduation and was killing it.
THE AFTER BASH
Jim Ferguson was called out of a meeting Monday morning; it was the Dean of Students at his daughter’s school.
They said Sarah was fine but shaken up from a fraternity party she attended over the weekend. Sarah had ended up in the emergency room after her roommate found her unresponsive in the shower at 4 am.
Both girls had their stomachs pumped, which the Dean said sounded worse than it actually was. He explained that it was a right of passage for some kids—sort of a first-hand wake-up call on the limits of imbibement.
The Dean said he expected she’d be released later this morning and that he might want to ring
University Medical for an update.
****
Anthony Gallo found himself completely naked in the back of one of his pledge brother’s Jeep. The sun woke him painfully. He was alone. What could he piece together? Very little at first as his head throbbed and stomach churned. A half-empty bottle of Gatorade was on the bench seat. He took a deep draw from it.
Anthony looked in the rearview mirror and smirked as he read the message scrawled on his forehead in Sharpie marker—“Mr. Pussy.” Was this a compliment or a cut? Perhaps that was its genius, that it could be both.
He did find his clothes. His jeans were drenched in urine. Perhaps a clue as to why he stripped down.
He checked his phone and realized he’d better get back to the Pi Gamm house to meet up with his pledge class. They would be cleaning every bit of that house, the worst of which involved the “Rec Rooms.” The “Rec Rooms”...a vague, sloppy memory of Anthony’s was triggered.
What was her name? It didn’t matter to some, but it mattered to him. To at least remember the names. She was a freshman, very cute, and smashed. He remembered trying to pace himself and keep it together so that he could actually “perform” should the opportunity present itself. Nothing more embarrassing than pulling up limp.
He didn’t have to do much encouragement, as they practically fell through a “Rec Room” door and onto a giant beanbag. He had hung the black lights himself just yesterday, and he remembered admiring them for a moment.
She couldn’t stop laughing—just laughing and laughing. “Skip N’ Go Naked,” the elixir of the Gods.
He remembered kissing her and feeling out where this could go. For the life of him, he could remember nothing else—black-out city. By the looks “of things” now, they had sex. Or at least the attempt was made. He was unsure if he delivered, having not paced himself as well as he’d hoped.
If he were to see her on campus, he’d have to decide whether to smile, wave, or just avoid her altogether.
****
Sarah’s Dad pulled his Volvo into the patient parking lot at University Med. He quickly checked his phone for any work emails before he went in. He made the decision not to tell her mother about all of this just yet. It was a 3-hour trip, and if he were there for a couple of hours, he’d be back before dinner. It would look like a day at the office.
Marching across the lot and through the sliding doors, Jim Ferguson was deciding what tack to take with his daughter. Soft and understanding, sharing a few college-aged mishaps of his own. Or to take a hard stance, reinforcing the need to take better care of herself. When you lose control of yourself, you’re just asking to be a victim.
****
I was excited to receive an invite; it was like a “golden ticket.” Not everyone on our hall got one. I needed the right outfit. Something that caught attention but didn’t look like I was trying too hard. I was able to get another ticket for my roommate, Ashley. Ash and I would buddy up.
I told my Dad this when he came to the hospital. I told him that I did buddy up; that I was with Ash.
Ash and I played some games and met some other girls who seemed more interested in angling on certain fraternity members than getting to know us. The pledge brothers ran the games and made sure everyone had what they needed—mainly a full solo cup.
As the sun set, we all moved inside. It was amazing, visceral, and also increasingly out of control. I remember laughing in a room away from the party; I couldn’t stop laughing. Then I am in a shower, in my clothes, then dragged out. Ash is there, she is crying and stumbling around. Then I am being examined by a nurse. She is talking about where she and the other nurse should have lunch later as she pushes a tube down my throat. I feel a growing pain in my vagina as they pump my stomach.
I hear a doctor talking to someone at school about my “condition.” About calling family, as I’m still 17.
They gave me a couple of pills...three of them, small and white. They help with the pain in my throat and head. My emotions go gray. They make my conversation with Dad harder to follow and understand. He’s talking about his college days; he’s talking about being reckless. He’s asking questions that I can’t answer and wouldn’t want to answer to him, even if I did know. I feel broken.
Ash kisses my head as she leaves. She has a Rush meeting.
****
Within two weeks of The Buccaneer Bash, Sarah left school, her roommate started pledging Pi Gamma’s sister sorority, and the Dean of Students received 16 varied complaints stemming from the event. That was a low number, and the Dean was relieved. They were your garden variety sexual and physical assault cases that would go through the usual campus court process, where the fog would clear, or just as often, not.
The silver lining about this era of college students was that there were less fights and fewer assaults on gay students. Also, the overall lack of memory (with the combination of booze and the strength of drugs) made “certainty” less possible. Many perpetrators and victims of assault don’t recall incidents at all; they just wake up somewhere dirty, hurt, and confused.
For the Dean, less paperwork was a welcome outcome.
****
GRADING OUT
Every drop of “Skip N’ Go Naked” was drunk. The trash cans were emptied and turned over. One was the puke can, to be cleaned by “Gutter Boy”—always the designation of the shortest pledge.
The house was cleaned within hours by the best-damned pledge class anyone could remember. Who knows, they all might get in after all.
At the Sunday fraternity meeting, Chad Boyer received a round of applause. Even the seven sweethearts, one of whom was Chad’s girlfriend, joined in.
After singing the sweetheart tune to the brotherhood, they exited to their own sorority meeting. Official dealings began. The first order of new business was a discussion on fundraising for the next massive event, Winter Wunderland.
Chad had more work to do.
Jeff Stone gave up a capitalist corpo career during the pandemic to write full-time. Years from now, many may call him a fool for doing so, but alas, that will be years from now. He resides among the Blue Ridge Mountains in Crozet, VA, with his family, and aside from 25+ years of writing ad copy, he is a newly published writer of stories of whatever length they demand of him.