Another chapter from my never published book. Yes this really happened, though I changed the names (and nicknames) to protect the guilty.
There is Profanity in this one- just saying.
As with all the chapters, they begin with the date that the event occurred, followed by a headline from a newspaper from that day (usually the Philadelphia Inquirer.) In this case, I added pictures (and links) which didn't appear in the manuscript.
Comments welcome.
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Chapter 2.62: Sailor’s Ball
Friday, April 11, 1987 Scarfo Held in Slaying of Testa
Holy Shit! A bright sunny afternoon in State College- so welcome after all the rain rain rain! Everyone in State College had pruned fingers due to all the rain. Thought Noah was building his ark somewhere up near Beaver Stadium.
My phone rang as I was writing a Shakespeare paper on my Mac. It was Virginia.
“Hey Lancer! Pink Elephant is having a big Greek only fundraiser today. Would you care to accompany me?” The last sentence she said like a snooty rich person.
“Sure! When?”
“I’m at the house now, so come over anytime. Wear letters, Skull!”
The great decisions of College: finish my paper or get shit faced? Yeah, like that was a hard decision! I tossed on my yellow letters hooded sweatshirt, which was beginning to look a bit ragged. I then walked over to Crow house where I met Virginia out front. She was wearing her maroon letters hooded sweatshirt, tight jeans and boots. I loved that look! I was so turned on! I wanted to fuck her right there on the lawn.
Catty corner from Crow House was Pink Elephant: Delta Sigma Phi. They lived in a huge mausoleum like house painted pink, which is why I assume they had that nickname. What came first? The name or the paint? Hmmmm. Anyway, out on their front lawn were bunches of greeks all colorfully dressed in their letters. There were pink topped Tri Delts, green shirted Lambda Chis, magenta and silver Phi Sigs, baby blue Dee Gees, and so on. Every house seemed to be there. Except Skull.
Virginia and I walked across the street and joined the line at the door. We showed our student ID and paid five bucks (going to charity) and We were IN!
Sailor’s Ball! Down to the basement party room where there were three wading pools full of little orange goldfish- each maybe and inch to an inch and a half long. Several kegs of beer were set up around the room, as well as pledges behind the bar, so even as crowded as it was downstairs there was no shortage of beer.
Goldfish.
“Why all the goldfish?” I said to Virginia over the loud music. Gotta love the Hooters:
She said something back I didn’t hear. Then I saw: a Phi Psi grabbed a goldfish from the pool, dropped it in his beer, and chugged the beer!
Swallowed the goldfish!
What was this? The fifties?
Then I noticed others doing the same thing.
“What?” I asked Virginia.
“You swallow them!” she said.
“Why?”
“Because that’s what you do at Sailor’s Ball! I think the house that swallows the most gets a prize.”
“I would think sororities swallow the most.”
Virginia punched me hard in the shoulder.
“I’m not swallowing no fuckin’ goldfish,” I said.
“Wuss!” Virginia said. She accepted two beers from one of her brothers who happened to be at the keg.
“It would be flapping around in my stomach! I mean- it’s still alive down there! Then when you take a dump it’s staring at you!”
The Crow brother joined us. “No, what you do is stick the fish into your beer and chug the beer. The alcohol kills the fish instantly.”
There’s that chugging thing again.
The Crow grabbed a fish out of the pool, plopped it into his beer and down it went! Sorry Charlie!
“How many is that for you?” Virginia said.
“Six!” he said, then burped loudly.
“C’mon Skull! You’re not going to let a Crow outdo you are you?” Virginia said.
At that exact moment, I saw two of our pledges chug down beer fish. Fuck.
Ok. Grabbed a fish out of one of the pools. It wriggled and fought. Into the beer. Drank as fast as I could. Gagged. Gone.
Holy shit! I just swallowed a goldfish!
Virginia downed one as well. I took her cup and went to the keg where I saw the Skull pledges. They saw me, high-fived me, took my cups and started to fill them.
“Hey Lancer! We saw you swallow a goldfish! Pretty cool, isn’t it?” said the tall one, Windex. He was six fourish, with long arms and spiky hair. He was wearing a black shirt with his pledge pin.
“Yeah, I guess. How many have you guys done?” I said.
“I’ve done four,” Windex said, “and he’s only done two.”
“Three!” said his pledge brother, Brick. Brick was incredibly muscled- a body builder to the max. He was maybe five eight, but I’d never seen muscles like that.
“I just did the one so far,” I said.
“Lame!” said Brick.
“I just got here!” I accepted two full beers.
“Hold on a second” Windex said. He had a pitcher he was filling. He finished filling it and gave it to me.
“We have two we found upstairs,” he said.
“Hey Lancer! Do one with us!” Brick said.
Fuck.
“Ok.”
So we scooped out fish, stuck them in our beers and down
They
Went.
Ugh!
Whose fucking idea was this?
No one better than Springsteen for party music.
Windex refilled my beer. We were hogging the keg, but since we were Skulls (and Brick was so big) no one said anything. I headed back to Virginia and the Crow brother.
“It’s about time!” she said, smiling.
I showed her the pitcher.
“All is forgiven,” she said.
“I’m one fish ahead of you. Did one with my pledges over there.”
She looked.
“Oh yeah?” she said. Grabbed a flapping fish and swallowed it raw- no beer. Then she chugged a beer as a chaser.
We’re even, now…” She grabbed another and swallowed it too. Flip flap flip flap gone.
“I’m ahead,” she said, smiling.
The room was interrupted by a familiar sound to all: puking. A purple clad Alpha Kappa Lambda puked into one of the pools. The fish in that pool began a feeding frenzy.
“I only see two fish in there,” someone said.
“Lame” said a DG near me.
A cute girl pronouncing a guy lame for his lack of goldfish was enough to start a different frenzy- guys started downing goldfish like crazy.
Nothing like George Thorogood at a keg party. And Springsteen. And whatever else really. As long as it rocks.
In the end, I did five goldfish. I left Virginia there with a group of her brothers, as I needed to finish my paper.
Found out later she did 36. Thirty six fucking goldfish. Verified by others. Fuck!
All I could think of was half of Penn State’s Greek community having goldfish diarrhea that stared up at them from the bowl.
Still, hell of a party. Have you ever swallowed goldfish?
Lame.
There is Profanity in this one- just saying.
As with all the chapters, they begin with the date that the event occurred, followed by a headline from a newspaper from that day (usually the Philadelphia Inquirer.) In this case, I added pictures (and links) which didn't appear in the manuscript.
Comments welcome.
********************************************************************
Chapter 2.62: Sailor’s Ball
Friday, April 11, 1987 Scarfo Held in Slaying of Testa
Holy Shit! A bright sunny afternoon in State College- so welcome after all the rain rain rain! Everyone in State College had pruned fingers due to all the rain. Thought Noah was building his ark somewhere up near Beaver Stadium.
My phone rang as I was writing a Shakespeare paper on my Mac. It was Virginia.
“Hey Lancer! Pink Elephant is having a big Greek only fundraiser today. Would you care to accompany me?” The last sentence she said like a snooty rich person.
“Sure! When?”
“I’m at the house now, so come over anytime. Wear letters, Skull!”
The great decisions of College: finish my paper or get shit faced? Yeah, like that was a hard decision! I tossed on my yellow letters hooded sweatshirt, which was beginning to look a bit ragged. I then walked over to Crow house where I met Virginia out front. She was wearing her maroon letters hooded sweatshirt, tight jeans and boots. I loved that look! I was so turned on! I wanted to fuck her right there on the lawn.
Catty corner from Crow House was Pink Elephant: Delta Sigma Phi. They lived in a huge mausoleum like house painted pink, which is why I assume they had that nickname. What came first? The name or the paint? Hmmmm. Anyway, out on their front lawn were bunches of greeks all colorfully dressed in their letters. There were pink topped Tri Delts, green shirted Lambda Chis, magenta and silver Phi Sigs, baby blue Dee Gees, and so on. Every house seemed to be there. Except Skull.
Pink Elephant, circa 2015. Collegian photograph by Camille Stefani
Virginia and I walked across the street and joined the line at the door. We showed our student ID and paid five bucks (going to charity) and We were IN!
Sailor’s Ball! Down to the basement party room where there were three wading pools full of little orange goldfish- each maybe and inch to an inch and a half long. Several kegs of beer were set up around the room, as well as pledges behind the bar, so even as crowded as it was downstairs there was no shortage of beer.
Goldfish.
“Why all the goldfish?” I said to Virginia over the loud music. Gotta love the Hooters:
She said something back I didn’t hear. Then I saw: a Phi Psi grabbed a goldfish from the pool, dropped it in his beer, and chugged the beer!
Swallowed the goldfish!
What was this? The fifties?
Then I noticed others doing the same thing.
“What?” I asked Virginia.
“You swallow them!” she said.
“Why?”
“Because that’s what you do at Sailor’s Ball! I think the house that swallows the most gets a prize.”
“I would think sororities swallow the most.”
Virginia punched me hard in the shoulder.
“I’m not swallowing no fuckin’ goldfish,” I said.
“Wuss!” Virginia said. She accepted two beers from one of her brothers who happened to be at the keg.
“It would be flapping around in my stomach! I mean- it’s still alive down there! Then when you take a dump it’s staring at you!”
The Crow brother joined us. “No, what you do is stick the fish into your beer and chug the beer. The alcohol kills the fish instantly.”
There’s that chugging thing again.
2017: Goldfish Chugging Survivor
“How many is that for you?” Virginia said.
“Six!” he said, then burped loudly.
“C’mon Skull! You’re not going to let a Crow outdo you are you?” Virginia said.
At that exact moment, I saw two of our pledges chug down beer fish. Fuck.
Ok. Grabbed a fish out of one of the pools. It wriggled and fought. Into the beer. Drank as fast as I could. Gagged. Gone.
Holy shit! I just swallowed a goldfish!
Virginia downed one as well. I took her cup and went to the keg where I saw the Skull pledges. They saw me, high-fived me, took my cups and started to fill them.
Me in 1987, around the time of this story. Members Only jacket!
“Hey Lancer! We saw you swallow a goldfish! Pretty cool, isn’t it?” said the tall one, Windex. He was six fourish, with long arms and spiky hair. He was wearing a black shirt with his pledge pin.
“Yeah, I guess. How many have you guys done?” I said.
“I’ve done four,” Windex said, “and he’s only done two.”
“Three!” said his pledge brother, Brick. Brick was incredibly muscled- a body builder to the max. He was maybe five eight, but I’d never seen muscles like that.
“I just did the one so far,” I said.
“Lame!” said Brick.
“I just got here!” I accepted two full beers.
“Hold on a second” Windex said. He had a pitcher he was filling. He finished filling it and gave it to me.
“We have two we found upstairs,” he said.
“Hey Lancer! Do one with us!” Brick said.
Fuck.
“Ok.”
So we scooped out fish, stuck them in our beers and down
They
Went.
Ugh!
Whose fucking idea was this?
No one better than Springsteen for party music.
Windex refilled my beer. We were hogging the keg, but since we were Skulls (and Brick was so big) no one said anything. I headed back to Virginia and the Crow brother.
Typical late 80s Fraternity Basement party at my house. I was standing on a bench.
“It’s about time!” she said, smiling.
I showed her the pitcher.
“All is forgiven,” she said.
“I’m one fish ahead of you. Did one with my pledges over there.”
She looked.
“Oh yeah?” she said. Grabbed a flapping fish and swallowed it raw- no beer. Then she chugged a beer as a chaser.
We’re even, now…” She grabbed another and swallowed it too. Flip flap flip flap gone.
“I’m ahead,” she said, smiling.
The room was interrupted by a familiar sound to all: puking. A purple clad Alpha Kappa Lambda puked into one of the pools. The fish in that pool began a feeding frenzy.
“I only see two fish in there,” someone said.
“Lame” said a DG near me.
A cute girl pronouncing a guy lame for his lack of goldfish was enough to start a different frenzy- guys started downing goldfish like crazy.
Nothing like George Thorogood at a keg party. And Springsteen. And whatever else really. As long as it rocks.
In the end, I did five goldfish. I left Virginia there with a group of her brothers, as I needed to finish my paper.
Found out later she did 36. Thirty six fucking goldfish. Verified by others. Fuck!
All I could think of was half of Penn State’s Greek community having goldfish diarrhea that stared up at them from the bowl.
Still, hell of a party. Have you ever swallowed goldfish?
Lame.
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