Congratulations on Combating Institutional Corruption!

When you show up at the Greek Council they’ll be in the middle of their Friday session.

“We declare this wet-t-shirt contest begun!” the frat president will announce to a horde of strippers, who will summarily be sprayed down with a fire-hose while they softly weep.

You’ll step in the door flanked by Partyman McJohnson, Neck McGee, and your sister, with the rest of your frat standing behind you.  You’ll hold up a can of Natty Lite above your head in the classic symbolic gesture of Frat Challenge.  The Frat President will stand in response, flanked by his Frat Lieutenants.  The dean will shake his head at you from the audience, his ire palpable.  The Frat President’s girlfriend will fan herself, visibly excited by your presence.

All the pieces will be in place for the frat ritual to take place: an elaborate, codified drinking contest that will determine who leads the Greek Council and who is forever excised from frathood.  It’ll consist of both of your groups attempting to empty kegs.  Once the kegs are finished, you’ll stack them one on top of another.  Each keg will, once divided by the number of drinkers on a given team, will then determine the “score” of each team in the contest.  You’ll begin with aplomb, handing red solo cups around a ring of people and then shouting out random names to initiate drinking.  You’ll finish your first keg in record time, to the resounding cheers of the assembled fratboys, but when you look over at the President and his frat, they’ll be two kegs in and working on a third.

It’ll be clear that something is wrong, so you’ll tap your sister on the shoulder and whisper in her ear.

“What’s going on?”

She’ll stop sipping directly from the tap of a keg and nod at the array of frat boys drinking on the other side.

“They expected this,” she’ll murmur, putting down the keg tap and vanishing into the assembled crowd, the same way she did at your 13^th birthday.  You’ll almost immediately forget about her  ever having been there, and go back to organizing your drinkers.

As you expected, Neck McGee and Partyman McJohnson will be living up to their names: Neck, thanks to his giraffean heritage, will be able to suck down booze at a heroic pace and Partyman, the legendary stalwart, will be drinking his heart out.  The car with the personality of David Hasselhoff will mostly just provide moral support while the rest of the frat helps out as best they can.

Minutes will stretch into hours.  Day will become night.  The haze of liquor will begin to take your frat brothers from you one by one, and while your kegs will continue to stack up, the President’s frat will still manage to outpace you.  They won’t even seem that drunk as the contest continues.  Something will seem wrong.

You won’t know just what until your sister returns, holding a VHS tape and a VCR hooked up to an aging cathode ray television.  She’ll wheel the whole setup to the front of the Frattatoreum, and once she pops the tape it’ll all fall together.

The TV will display a grim faced dean screaming at the Frat President.

“I WANT THOSE PANTY BANDITS OUT!” he’ll shout into the Frat President’s face, spittle splattering the wincing young man.

“I understand,” the Frat President will murmur in response.  “The Sigma Epsilon Omegas will lose their challenge tomorrow.”  At this point the Frat President will gesture at someone off camera, and who will appear but Traitorsly McGee, member of your frat and known bad apple.  Traitorsly McGee and the Frat President will then begin emptying out half of each keg on camera.  There will be two hours of keg emptying on tape, interspersed with evil laughter.  There will also be a bunch of stuff about how the charges levied upon you by the Greek Council were fabricated, thanks largely to the assistance of Traitorsly.

Fifteen minutes into the video, Neck McGee will pull out his gun and shoot Traitorsly McGee in the face.  Then he’ll shout his trademark catchphrase:

“You can’t prosecute a giraffe for murder.”

The crowd will erupt into applause.  They’ll surge forward, taking hold of the dean and the Frat President and dragging them from the Frat Hall in a symbolic and legally binding rejection of their authority.  Then they’ll settle to choosing a new frat president.

The crowd will try to elect you, but you’ll refuse.  Then they’ll try to elect Partyman McJohnson, but he’ll politely decline by leaving the Frat Hall without speaking to anyone or making eye contact.  After that, they’ll ask the talking car imbued with the personality of David Hasselhoff, who will immediately accept nomination.

“I will be a dedicated and unifying leader!” he’ll proudly announce to the assembled crowd of douchebags.  They’ll cheer and start pouring beer all over his hood.

You’ll quietly walk out of the hall alone, leaving the cheers behind you.  You’ll see your sister and Neck standing on the far side of the parking lot, holding each other softly, sharing a whisper.  When you look their way your sister will smile and nod at you, and you’ll give them a quick thumbs up.  You’ll turn to leave and run smack into the frat president’s girlfriend.

“Hey there, tiger,” she’ll murmur at you through her cocaine haze.  “You winning this frat related contest means I have to fuck you whenever you want.”  She’ll almost pass out when she finishes, but you’ll catch her standing up.

“Awesome,” whisper into her comatose ear.   “Awesome.”

Congratulations on Combating Institutional Corruption!