Antics of a dumb college boy
There is a young man, some of you may have heard of him, named Tim. Tim is rather short, and a wee bit of a sociopath, and has a horrible short guy complex (Martial Arts, etc). He has this tendency to get obscenely drunk (even worse than me) and brag of his exploits (which is usually about little more than him being very very drunk and stoned).
On the eve of Easter Sunday, I decided that I was only going to sleep about six hours, so I may as well leave my door open, in case someone needs to wake me up for something. In no more than an hour, I am awoken by the following:
"HEY OWEN!! HAVE YOU EVER TRIED MOVVINGFH FURNITOOR AROUND WHEN YOUR RLY DRUNK AND ST0N'D???"
For a moment or two, all I could do was blink.
"Uh, no, Tim, I can't say that I have."
"WELL DUDE, THERE'S THIS COUCH IN MY ROOM, AND I HAVE NO IDEA HOW IT GOT THERE!!"
I decided this was something that required visual confirmation, so I got up, and walked to his room. Sure enough, there is a couch. Those of you who have seen how narrow the halls and doorways are at the SOU dorms, will understand exactly how puzzling it should be that he would manage to get that damn thing through the door even when he's SOBER. I don't even WANT to begin wondering where it came from. But, to be honest, I really didn't care.
"Congratulations, Tim." I went back to my room, and returned to sleeping. In my sleep, I dreamed of standing atop a war elephant and firing arrows down on the armies of those who would forbid Sriracha Hot Sauce. After maybe another hour,
"HEY OWEN!!! CHECK OUT THIS FIRE EXTINGUISHER I FOUND!!!!" *BSSSHHHHHHHHHH* There stands Tim, with one of the dorm fire extinguishers, blasting it across the hall into the laundry room.
"Neat, Tim." Back to my elephant. About an hour later,
*BSSSSSSHHHHHHH* A bunch of white CO2 mist starts pouring into my room. I reached over and shoved the door to close. My elephant ran away.
We found out the next morning, that he had stolen the fire extinguisher from the Glacier hall (which is on the exact opposite end of the housing complex, past the cafeteria and two security cameras). The Janitor had apparently found him passed out in the lounge, with the entire room (including himself) coated in extinguisher ice. At this point, Tim got up and ran, and hid in someone else's room until sober. He was also smart enough to hide the stolen extinguisher in the least incriminating place he could find: The bushes right outside his window. He spent the rest of Easter Sunday trying to dry out everything in his room that got soaked, and later that week moved over into Glacier, out of our hall. We had bets going on whether or not he'd get expelled (tampering with a fire extinguisher is a federal offense). However, it seems that the surveillance recording system is horribly set up, and reviewing the tapes would be more work than anyone on SOU security felt like doing. Smooth work, Tim. You beat the rap.
Not long before Timothy's firefighting experience, we had a new member move into the first room of our hall. He was apparently from some sort of military faction, though we didn't really care which one. He used to have a white board on his door, on which would be awkward messages that made no sense to us. Among these messages were the following:
"Shut the FUCK up!!!" We couldn't quite tell if this was directed toward us or not. We don't really tend to be that loud, but if we are, he could always just, you know, ask us to tone it down. We paid no mind to it, and the message was later removed, to be replaced with:
"One shot,
One kill,
Ready to die
Never will"
I can't tell if this is a military thing, or a penis compensation thing.
But, in spite of the awkward messages on his door, we've all been quite hospitable. We didn't hot-glue his lock when he used my shower stall, or anything like that. In the cafeteria, we would invite him to come sit with us, but he refused. I mean, come on. We let the guy live in our hall, we're making friendly gestures, and he totally blows us off. He has to this day never so much as introduced himself, leaving us with no choice but to call him Arms (short for "army guy").
One night, we were hanging out in the hallway, and Garret whacked his door, as he usually does. It was maybe 10pm. So, Arms comes out of his room without a shirt on (research has led us to the information that he used to be fat, so he now appears without a shirt whenever possible to show how lanky the military has made him), and says, "Hey! You guys wanna be a little more fucking quiet? Maybe stop pounding on shit?" Then ducks back into his room and slams the door. So, a couple minutes later, when this stoner guy that none of us like named Luke comes down and asks us for a cigarette, we cannot resist. "Well, none of us smoke, but the guy at the end of the hall does. You should go knock on his door."
At the sound of the first knock, we all disappeared behind locked doors with the lights out. This was the only thing mildly resembling a prank that we pulled. I mean, come on, do you mean to tell me that a guy can join the military, and NOT deal with any pranking comrades? This is kid shit compared to what I'd do if I were a Marine. Or, hell, what I'd do if I were in any state of not liking him.
So, a week or two pass after this incident, and, about a week ago, we're all sitting in our rooms with our doors open, as we usually do, and we hear this clown come into the hall (apparently just coming back from class). What we hear, is as follows:
"There'd better not be anyone in my fuckin' room! Fucking assholes! I'm going in HERE now, into the non-virgin area! OVER THERE BEING THE VIRGIN AREA!" We were under the impression that he was indicating the rest of the hall with his final statement. This had us partially in hysterics, and partially confused (because we know for a fact that he has seen almost every one of us entering and leaving our rooms with girlfriends). We came to the conclusion that his statement didn't make any sense whatsoever, but was still totally awesome. So, later that night, Garrett got a wonderful idea.
You must understand that on a friday night, in Ashland, there is little to do. So, we broke out the Photoshop, and used it to create and post a proper warning on his door, as well as another one on the adjacent wall. After all, if such areas as he indicated truly existed, it was only fair to alert the public of this hazard.
The next morning, we discovered that he had left both signs up, but moved the one on his door down a couple of inches so that it was no longer blocking his peephole. I think we've finally reached an understanding.
Some of you may know who OATC (pronounced, "Oatsie") is, but some of you may not. He is a large, disgusting, smelly, neckbearded warhammer player, who is consequently the only student occupying the hall across the laundry room from ours. He is so socially awkward, and so disgusting to be around, that even the warhammer players from the Diamond hall will not be seen with him these days. He often sits in the Hawthorne lounge, playing Super Smash Bros.: Melee for hours on end (It was once recorded that he was there before 6pm, and stayed past 2am), and in the process of doing so, makes the entire lounge smell so vile that no other can enter without holding their breath. It has been established that he does not need to do this in the lounge, since he has a TV in his room, but for some reason he does it anyway. We have logically deduced that he cannot possibly be trying to show off, because in spite of how much he plays, he is still an atrocious failure at gaming (I have once personally witnessed him losing to a lvl 5 computer player).
OATC takes his name from his trademark garment of choice: A ratty green One-Armed Trench Coat. Historians have disputed the true story behind it to no end, but it is universally agreed and evidentially undeniable that the sleeve was ripped off, and rather than sew it back on, or throw the disgusting thing away (he has NEVER washed it), he continued to wear it around.
SIDENOTE: The following are hypothetical theories on how OATC became the OATC.
There was once a hot and popular DJ in the Greater Toronto Area, who worked day and night to give the patrons of a local dance club the greatest remixes ever. One fateful night, he was wearing his favorite black trench coat, a trend at the time due to the Matrix influence. Suddenly, as he was rockin' the turntables, his right sleeve caught on the needle, and was ripped clean off. The music immediately stopped, and everyone turned to watch in horror as a neckbeard instantaneously sprouted from his chin. His body began to swell with humiliation at what he'd done, and he began to emit a smell so putrid, it turned his jacket green. He fled the area, never to be seen again. Until now.
Amidst the rough-and-tumble highschool life of Beverly Hills, there was one young boy who was constantly pushed around by the other students for his attempt to grow moss on his trench coat for a science project. One day, he decided to stand up against the mob. The enemy gang's leader, Phillip, challenged him to a fight, and with all the pressure behind him, the young man could not back down. As they stepped into the center ring of the playground, the young warrior tried to roll up his sleeves for the coming fight. His right one, however, would not roll up. Something was stopping it. In sheer frustration, he ripped the sleeve off. Seeing the opportunity, Phillip grabbed the sleeve and bolted into the sunset. The young man in the trenchcoat was never the same again.
In any case, this garment was recently replaced, by something new: A shiny silver hooded cape. The price of this new treasure has been discovered to have been 150 dollars or more, but the powers it carries can only be speculated upon. Many believe that it is an invisibility cloak, and the only reason we can see him is that he's wearing it inside out, so he can't see anybody. He doesn't know that he's wearing it inside out though, he just thinks everybody left.
Anyway, as a number of students were gathering in the Hawthorne lounge last night, one of them moved some of the furniture around to better set the mood. After passing through, OATC was reported to have said in a huff to another student at the vending machine his distaste for people moving the furniture. He later called the RA, who didn't care, and was pissed off that OATC wasted his time on that.
Stool pidgeons are not something that is smiled upon in our hall. This will not stand. We are now discovering various information that may aid in our retaliation. For one thing, the end lightswitch in the lounge shuts off the power outlet that he plugs his gamecube into. For another, he never locks his door.
Anybody who has any good ideas for what is to be done, please notify us immediately.
On the eve of Easter Sunday, I decided that I was only going to sleep about six hours, so I may as well leave my door open, in case someone needs to wake me up for something. In no more than an hour, I am awoken by the following:
"HEY OWEN!! HAVE YOU EVER TRIED MOVVINGFH FURNITOOR AROUND WHEN YOUR RLY DRUNK AND ST0N'D???"
For a moment or two, all I could do was blink.
"Uh, no, Tim, I can't say that I have."
"WELL DUDE, THERE'S THIS COUCH IN MY ROOM, AND I HAVE NO IDEA HOW IT GOT THERE!!"
I decided this was something that required visual confirmation, so I got up, and walked to his room. Sure enough, there is a couch. Those of you who have seen how narrow the halls and doorways are at the SOU dorms, will understand exactly how puzzling it should be that he would manage to get that damn thing through the door even when he's SOBER. I don't even WANT to begin wondering where it came from. But, to be honest, I really didn't care.
"Congratulations, Tim." I went back to my room, and returned to sleeping. In my sleep, I dreamed of standing atop a war elephant and firing arrows down on the armies of those who would forbid Sriracha Hot Sauce. After maybe another hour,
"HEY OWEN!!! CHECK OUT THIS FIRE EXTINGUISHER I FOUND!!!!" *BSSSHHHHHHHHHH* There stands Tim, with one of the dorm fire extinguishers, blasting it across the hall into the laundry room.
"Neat, Tim." Back to my elephant. About an hour later,
*BSSSSSSHHHHHHH* A bunch of white CO2 mist starts pouring into my room. I reached over and shoved the door to close. My elephant ran away.
We found out the next morning, that he had stolen the fire extinguisher from the Glacier hall (which is on the exact opposite end of the housing complex, past the cafeteria and two security cameras). The Janitor had apparently found him passed out in the lounge, with the entire room (including himself) coated in extinguisher ice. At this point, Tim got up and ran, and hid in someone else's room until sober. He was also smart enough to hide the stolen extinguisher in the least incriminating place he could find: The bushes right outside his window. He spent the rest of Easter Sunday trying to dry out everything in his room that got soaked, and later that week moved over into Glacier, out of our hall. We had bets going on whether or not he'd get expelled (tampering with a fire extinguisher is a federal offense). However, it seems that the surveillance recording system is horribly set up, and reviewing the tapes would be more work than anyone on SOU security felt like doing. Smooth work, Tim. You beat the rap.
Not long before Timothy's firefighting experience, we had a new member move into the first room of our hall. He was apparently from some sort of military faction, though we didn't really care which one. He used to have a white board on his door, on which would be awkward messages that made no sense to us. Among these messages were the following:
"Shut the FUCK up!!!" We couldn't quite tell if this was directed toward us or not. We don't really tend to be that loud, but if we are, he could always just, you know, ask us to tone it down. We paid no mind to it, and the message was later removed, to be replaced with:
"One shot,
One kill,
Ready to die
Never will"
I can't tell if this is a military thing, or a penis compensation thing.
But, in spite of the awkward messages on his door, we've all been quite hospitable. We didn't hot-glue his lock when he used my shower stall, or anything like that. In the cafeteria, we would invite him to come sit with us, but he refused. I mean, come on. We let the guy live in our hall, we're making friendly gestures, and he totally blows us off. He has to this day never so much as introduced himself, leaving us with no choice but to call him Arms (short for "army guy").
One night, we were hanging out in the hallway, and Garret whacked his door, as he usually does. It was maybe 10pm. So, Arms comes out of his room without a shirt on (research has led us to the information that he used to be fat, so he now appears without a shirt whenever possible to show how lanky the military has made him), and says, "Hey! You guys wanna be a little more fucking quiet? Maybe stop pounding on shit?" Then ducks back into his room and slams the door. So, a couple minutes later, when this stoner guy that none of us like named Luke comes down and asks us for a cigarette, we cannot resist. "Well, none of us smoke, but the guy at the end of the hall does. You should go knock on his door."
At the sound of the first knock, we all disappeared behind locked doors with the lights out. This was the only thing mildly resembling a prank that we pulled. I mean, come on, do you mean to tell me that a guy can join the military, and NOT deal with any pranking comrades? This is kid shit compared to what I'd do if I were a Marine. Or, hell, what I'd do if I were in any state of not liking him.
So, a week or two pass after this incident, and, about a week ago, we're all sitting in our rooms with our doors open, as we usually do, and we hear this clown come into the hall (apparently just coming back from class). What we hear, is as follows:
"There'd better not be anyone in my fuckin' room! Fucking assholes! I'm going in HERE now, into the non-virgin area! OVER THERE BEING THE VIRGIN AREA!" We were under the impression that he was indicating the rest of the hall with his final statement. This had us partially in hysterics, and partially confused (because we know for a fact that he has seen almost every one of us entering and leaving our rooms with girlfriends). We came to the conclusion that his statement didn't make any sense whatsoever, but was still totally awesome. So, later that night, Garrett got a wonderful idea.
You must understand that on a friday night, in Ashland, there is little to do. So, we broke out the Photoshop, and used it to create and post a proper warning on his door, as well as another one on the adjacent wall. After all, if such areas as he indicated truly existed, it was only fair to alert the public of this hazard.
The next morning, we discovered that he had left both signs up, but moved the one on his door down a couple of inches so that it was no longer blocking his peephole. I think we've finally reached an understanding.
Some of you may know who OATC (pronounced, "Oatsie") is, but some of you may not. He is a large, disgusting, smelly, neckbearded warhammer player, who is consequently the only student occupying the hall across the laundry room from ours. He is so socially awkward, and so disgusting to be around, that even the warhammer players from the Diamond hall will not be seen with him these days. He often sits in the Hawthorne lounge, playing Super Smash Bros.: Melee for hours on end (It was once recorded that he was there before 6pm, and stayed past 2am), and in the process of doing so, makes the entire lounge smell so vile that no other can enter without holding their breath. It has been established that he does not need to do this in the lounge, since he has a TV in his room, but for some reason he does it anyway. We have logically deduced that he cannot possibly be trying to show off, because in spite of how much he plays, he is still an atrocious failure at gaming (I have once personally witnessed him losing to a lvl 5 computer player).
OATC takes his name from his trademark garment of choice: A ratty green One-Armed Trench Coat. Historians have disputed the true story behind it to no end, but it is universally agreed and evidentially undeniable that the sleeve was ripped off, and rather than sew it back on, or throw the disgusting thing away (he has NEVER washed it), he continued to wear it around.
SIDENOTE: The following are hypothetical theories on how OATC became the OATC.
There was once a hot and popular DJ in the Greater Toronto Area, who worked day and night to give the patrons of a local dance club the greatest remixes ever. One fateful night, he was wearing his favorite black trench coat, a trend at the time due to the Matrix influence. Suddenly, as he was rockin' the turntables, his right sleeve caught on the needle, and was ripped clean off. The music immediately stopped, and everyone turned to watch in horror as a neckbeard instantaneously sprouted from his chin. His body began to swell with humiliation at what he'd done, and he began to emit a smell so putrid, it turned his jacket green. He fled the area, never to be seen again. Until now.
Amidst the rough-and-tumble highschool life of Beverly Hills, there was one young boy who was constantly pushed around by the other students for his attempt to grow moss on his trench coat for a science project. One day, he decided to stand up against the mob. The enemy gang's leader, Phillip, challenged him to a fight, and with all the pressure behind him, the young man could not back down. As they stepped into the center ring of the playground, the young warrior tried to roll up his sleeves for the coming fight. His right one, however, would not roll up. Something was stopping it. In sheer frustration, he ripped the sleeve off. Seeing the opportunity, Phillip grabbed the sleeve and bolted into the sunset. The young man in the trenchcoat was never the same again.
In any case, this garment was recently replaced, by something new: A shiny silver hooded cape. The price of this new treasure has been discovered to have been 150 dollars or more, but the powers it carries can only be speculated upon. Many believe that it is an invisibility cloak, and the only reason we can see him is that he's wearing it inside out, so he can't see anybody. He doesn't know that he's wearing it inside out though, he just thinks everybody left.
Anyway, as a number of students were gathering in the Hawthorne lounge last night, one of them moved some of the furniture around to better set the mood. After passing through, OATC was reported to have said in a huff to another student at the vending machine his distaste for people moving the furniture. He later called the RA, who didn't care, and was pissed off that OATC wasted his time on that.
Stool pidgeons are not something that is smiled upon in our hall. This will not stand. We are now discovering various information that may aid in our retaliation. For one thing, the end lightswitch in the lounge shuts off the power outlet that he plugs his gamecube into. For another, he never locks his door.
Anybody who has any good ideas for what is to be done, please notify us immediately.