>>> The Rollercoaster of Drama
By staff writer Simonne Cullen
September 5, 2004

Disclaimer: The following story is completely outrageous and utterly ludicrous. It is also the truth. Of course, we must from here on in state that most of the investigating is based on rumors, gossip, and drunk testimonies. Like I said, nothing but the bona fide truth.

Once you've adapted to the culture on your campus and visit your friends at another university, you realize that other than the weather, it's the same exact culture. Recently I took a trip to visit some friends from high school at their large and lovely state school, figuring I could use the experience to write another article to entertain you demanding people—but I got a lot more than I bargained for.

It was at one very elaborate house party where I met Dane. Or rather, had an encounter with Dane that if I could relive would end with me giving him a strong, swift kick to the crotch to prevent him from ever reproducing. Like any good story begins, I was standing there minding my own business when out of nowhere Dane accidentally spilled his beer all over my hair. Instead of giving me an apology, he yelled at me for standing directly in front of him. I thought, “Oh I'm sorry, last time I checked this was a party. I didn't realize we had to clear a path for your holiness.” But I didn't want to say anything in case this was one of my friends' friends. Dane quickly rolled his eyes at me and jogged back into the house. The encounter was over—or so I thought.

As I stood there with Bud Light acting as a leave-in conditioner, I debated the quickest route back to my friend's apartment so I could change into an outfit that didn't look like my pores were leaking beer. Suddenly—and again completely out of nowhere—I felt another cold carbon wave wash over my head. I bitterly swooped around to see Dane standing there screaming at me yet again to “Stop wasting beer!” Then he stalked back into the house.

Figuring there would be another beer shower coming through in three to five minutes, I hightailed it out of the yard and onto the street with my friends in tow. I was halfway down the block before I heard, “Hey girl! Get back here. You dropped your pocket!” Unable to catch up with us he made one last attempt to soak me with beer by wildly throwing it up in the air, “Hallelujah! It's raining beer. Save me Jesus! Save me with your Bud Light!!” If that were my child I would have killed him a long time ago.

“Who was that freak?” I asked as we boarded one of the shuttle buses. “Oh that's just Dane. Rumor has it he's been here since the late 1990's,” said the brunette. “He just drinks everyday and gets super destructive, burning things by night,” said the redhead. “Did you know you're covered in beer?” said the blonde. No, I hadn't noticed I smelled like a kegger, thanks for being incredibly observant you're going to change the world when you join NASA next year.

It was then that I decided to take my revenge through vengeful rhetoric. This is the unofficial, unauthorized, autobiography of Dane's four and a half years in college.

It all began freshman year when he went through three roommates in one semester. Nobody could live with him. Even his parents who live in town have refused him shelter by changing their phone numbers and the locks on their doors. By the end of the third roommate, D3 had developed such a reputation that even the housing department stopped sending him foreign exchange students as bunkmates. Apparently the language barrier never hindered Dane's morning routine of masturbating to raunchy porn on his roommates computer—because the only piece of Dane's laptop was the top half of a crushed screen under his bed.

Apparently D3 has never been seen hanging out at any of the dining facilities on campus with anyone but himself and a ridiculously large plate of pasta he eats every night with eight glasses of Mountain Dew lined up in front of him. Carbs and caffeine. I'm pretty sure that's the only was he's managed to live this long, because according to the other alcoholic on campus, Dane's drinking habits are dangerously out of control.

There's always one ballsy guy who thinks it's sweet to steal the campus security van and drive it down the block. But sophomore year Dane apparently didn't just go on a joy ride with the security van. He went on a joy weekend trip—to Michigan. The van was returned Sunday afternoon with the gas gauge pointing to E and a rather large dent in front bumper. On a side note, there were also several hit-and-runs that weekend in the Detroit metropolitan area. I'm not trying (hard) to insinuate anything, but maybe Michigan State Police could have done a little more investigating on Dane's weekend getaway and put two and two together. That's all I'm saying, really.

Not only has D3 been disturbing the peace on campus property, but occasionally he decides to invade the local suburbs. On a quiet Saturday morning at the city's weekly Farmer's Market, where an abundance of organic food and pastries are served amongst the town's quiet coffee drinkers, there was a severe disturbance of a sexual nature just two short months ago. Drunk since noon the day before, D3's ability to reek havoc on zero hours of sleep stunned the town. Witnesses (sober ones) claim that he took a piece of corn from one of the grocers and unzipped his pants and inserted it in. Then he ran down the block stroking the corn now sticking straight out of his pants. One eyewitness testimony claimed, “Some parents covered their children's eyes. Others laughed. Finally the police on foot patrol began chasing. Little boys were crying. It was a mess.” Of course Dane was taken to the local precinct where he slept for seventeen hours straight after being booked for disturbing the peace, resisting arrest, and probably indecent exposure with a piece of produce. He's like the crazy guy from “Dead Man On Campus” multiplied by a billion.

So the next time you're out partying on a weekend, take a good look around. There's a Dane on every campus. It could be the guy who wears the neon pink and green wet suit out to the bars, gets drunk, and by the next morning has to have his crew of buddies cut him out of it because he's managed to squeeze the beer belly in so tight that it's not coming out unless there are scissors and a whole lot of pain involved. Or it could be the psycho chick who needs to be duct taped to a chair to prevent her from clawing her ex-boyfriend's skin off. Whatever the case may be, there's one on every campus. They provide us with good laughs now, and will provide future generations with good laughs then. Because like every Dane, they've entered college sometime between the reign of New Kids on the Block and NSYNC. And that's a big generation gap.


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