Alright pledges, remove your blindfolds, sanitize your hands, and listen the FUCK up.
I am Brother Blake, and this is Brother Cody. Memorize the parts of our faces you can see over our masks, because for the next 72 hours, we own you.
You will be humiliated. Sleep deprived. Pushed beyond your limits, all while observing government health-and-safety protocols. If any of you thought this pandemic was gonna get you out of a classic hazing, go try your luck at Alpha Iota house—they’ve gone totally online this year.
Each year, we Delta Kappas pride ourselves on taking only the very best pledges: the cream of the mostly white, completely male crop. If you make it through this, you’ll be part of a legendary brotherhood, forged in the crucible of tonight. Also, we’re making a pod with the Kappa Sigma sorority, so you’ll get a chance to take your game much further than at the Week of Welcome Zoom mixer.
What did you say, maggot? You’ve got “a fever”? Dude, go get that checked out right now. Brother Cody, open the window. Everybody sanitize your hands again.
For the rest of you, here’s what you get to know about your schedule of pain.
As soon as I’m done talking, put your used blindfolds in this garbage bag and pick up these freshly Lysoled bottles of Lysol: you’re gonna deep-clean this frat house. Two pledges per room, and under no circumstances are you worthless pieces of filth allowed to speak to each other. Only the brothers who make the Delta Kappa cut deserve your particle emissions.
After all that hard work, it’s a well-earned feast for you bad little doggies: pet food, ghost peppers, and something we like to call “blender surprise.” It’s all being prepared by Cody, who, FYI, just got his negative test result back.
He quarantined all month for this.
See the big plywood box behind me? We call that the Simp Shack. Normally, you’d be crammed in there for hours while we pound on the walls to terrify and utterly disorient you. But we couldn’t find a way to space you all out in there, so instead you’ll be put face-first into sleeping bags which will be encircled with tape. We’re hoping this achieves a similar effect.
What’s that, bootlicker? You’re “feeling weird about this”? Nice try, but that’s not a symptom on the COVID list, unless you mean feverishly weird. Get back in the socially-distanced line or get your potentially symptomatic ass to a testing center.
Finally, sometime after midnight, you’ll be led to a mystery location to meet “The Tribunal.” I hope you did your homework, nip-turds: they’re gonna grill what’s left of you on your knowledge of fraternal history AND proper outbreak procedures. This will go on for hours. One wrong answer and you’ll be punished with these extra-long paddles that Cody built out of brooms, tape, and yard equipment he stole from his summer job at Home Depot.
That’s just day one. You can look forward to a weekend of hourly hand washing, sanitizer dunk tanks, and our legendary beer pong tournament—which this year will be played facing the wall, playing against yourself. We call it Beer Squash: you won’t so much win or lose as endure and get plastered. Which honestly isn’t all that different, really.
Most of you won’t make it through this. You’ll fail, quit, or realize that, COVID-safe or not, this tradition is rooted in pure toxic masculinity. But the few of you who rally through will be reborn into a glorious Greek life. We celebrate our new brothers at the first—of many!—fraternal ragers, which will be scheduled immediately after your mandatory two-week isolation. Better safe than sorry, simps.
Now get cleaning.