Category: Chapters

While the athletes of the world united at the Opening Ceremonies of the Olympic Games, I was skiing in Seven Springs. While it may not be the greatest ski resort around, it can still make you quite hungry. With this is mind, we headed to the only place worth dining in at one in the morning, Eat N’ Park!!

As soon as I walked in I was glad I came. While there may be around 32,000 locations in the Pittsburgh area alone, you cannot help but feel at home. My friend Valerie from high school was working, and she was very happy that I came in. As soon as we sat down in a booth, she sat down with us and pointed out a large black man sitting in the corner.

Apparently he had been offering the waitresses $100 to drive him to the airport, claiming he was an undercover FBI agent. He opened a gym bag and flashed what he said was $14,000 to another waitress. To Valerie, he was a loud and scary guy that she didn’t want in her restaurant any more. The other employees agreed, and they called the cops as we were sitting there ordering our post-skiing spaghetti.

Around 15 minutes later the cops showed up. Brandon remarked that the same number of cops came as when he had thrown the ketchup packet at the SUV, and I reminded him that these cops came in only two cars, while in our case we drew in three. They went over and started to talk to the man, and everything seemed to be okay. We got our food, and the cops started to leave.

The waitress who had been flashed the money ran over to the cops and pulled one aside, saying in hushed words (I could only hear her because they were standing right next to us) that she didn’t have a good feeling about this and that she wanted them to kick him out. The cops reluctantly agreed, and wandered over to the man again.

I had a great view of the conversation, or shall I say argument. The man didn’t look like he wanted to leave, and the cops didn’t like it. Valerie told us that someone saw him dancing on the bridge over the turnpike, and that he was either high, drunk, or both. I heard a cop practically yell at him “Shut your face and give me the damn number!!” I don’t know what the number meant, but apparently it was important. The black guy stood up suddenly and put on his jacket, and with police escort walked out.

We finished our spaghetti, and other than Brandon being a bitch about actually being charged for his food (we did know the waitress after all), we left. As we walked out, Brandon turned to me and exclaimed “I want you to punch me as hard as you can.” One visit in our past we had a small fight club outside of an Eat N’ Park, and now every time we leave we joke about it. This time however I was glad I didn’t take the overwhelming urge to deck Branden, as when we walked out the door the cops hadn’t left and were staring right at us. We all had a good laugh and went home.

Valerie told me to come and visit her as often as I could. Good food, lazy cops, scary black guys, and oh-so friendly waitresses all make Eat N’ Park one of my favorite all time restaurants.

Almost every action has fairly logical reasons for occurring. If you can see some logical reason to blow up a huge stuffed bunny you found on the side of the road you are a better man than I. While driving through the great city of Etna, Mr. Frog picked up a large stuffed bunny off of the side of the road, apparently left for quite some time (it was rather nasty). It was passed between people’s garages for the better part of a year, the smell of which would attract the curious parent to the large and ominous black garbage bag that was its home. Mr. Frog eventually got sick of the thing, and decided that we needed a burial. No normal burial would do, it needed to be spectacular. Burial at sea, a return to its roadside home, and a bonfire were all discarded.

Death by explosives was mentioned. Yes.

After much debate and surfing of Everything2 for homemade explosives recipes, we decided in favor of our fingers and made the pilgrimage to Phantom Fireworks in Ohio. We couldn’t afford anything fancy, so we ended up with 2 large bricks of small M-80 brand stringed fireworks, and a pack of Silver Bullets, along with 20 feet of fuse. Our crew consisted of me, Mr. Frog, and three lackeys. Mission equipment consisted of a minivan, explosives, various tools, the bunny, camcorder, and a burning desire to see bunny fluff fly through the air.

Our basic concept was a skeleton of explosives. Hollow out the inside a little bit, connect the materials, spread them out and time them so they would go off more or less in sequence. We needed a way to connect the fireworks inside systematically, so someone brought up the concepts of making bricks of 5 of the M-80s. We taped the bricks together into 6 groups: 1 large pack for the chest, 1 medium pack for the head, and 4 small packs for the hands and legs. These packs were then connected together with roughly the same lengths of fuse. The bricks, once fully wired, looked so much like dynamite strung together that no one could go more than two minutes without saying, “This is so fucking cool!”

One of the lackeys suggested that we test the fuse to make sure it would light the other fuses that were taped to it. Our first trial didn’t light, which really scared everyone, but each trial after that worked. The entire ordeal was carefully documented by the camcorder, including much more arguing that anyone would care to admit. The skeletal explosive set was wrapped in newspaper and carefully inserted into the back of the bunny through a large incision along the seam. Once inside, more newspaper was stuffed inside in case the fuse failed and we needed something to burn. The inside of the bunny was mostly this plastic fluff that would just sap together when subjected to heat.

Two long days later we took the bunny onsite to the location we had picked. Nestled behind the KDKA radio tower was an isolated valley that was only rarely frequented by bike riders, and on this day, ATV enthusiasts. We had to walk deep into the valley, past a waterfall, almost to the point where the creek dumped out into the river which ran along the large road that we lived by. We put the bunny in a large open area, and prepared the portable fire extinguisher we had brought, along with two creek water filled coke bottles. The fuse was lit, the camera on record, and the dog running towards the bunny. What?? Where did the fucking dog come from?? Unbeknownst to us when we lit the fuse, two hikers and their dog were watching the festivities from around a bend, and the dog couldn’t resist the action. We ran towards to dog and the bunny, yelling and screaming until the dog backed off. He ran back to his owners, who were fairly interested at this point as to why our attention should be so focused on the bloated and dirty bunny, sitting in the middle of a creek bed.

The fuse had been lit, the dog chased, and the show must go on. We backed to a reasonably safe distance to watch, and waited impatiently for what we hoped was an exciting event. The fuse acted like a sparkler, allowing us to see if it was still burning. After what seemed like an eternity, the bunny’s ass started to explode. We all jumped at the suddenness of it, the immediate machine gun sound of the M-80’s destroying the bunny’s ass. It started to smoke black, and the bunny slowly slumped forward onto its chest. The Silver Bullets went off in unison, sending showers of multicolored sparks out of it’s arms and legs. The charge in the head went off in less than a second, blowing out the neck in a large shredding action. The whole back had been ripped open and gutted, with smoke billowing out and the newspapers burning in large flames that continued to spread and catch stray charges. When what we determined was the last charge went off, we slowly advanced. A lackey picked up the bunny by the ears after we doused it with water.

The contents of what had been the bunny’s guts slid out of the now gaping hole from the back of its head to its ass.

The lackey wanted to see if all the explosives had gone off, so stuck his hand in to dig around in the arms. Each movement made a slosh sound, and he pulled out charred black mush that had been the stuffing. Even for a stuffed bunny, everyone agreed it was completely sick. We packed up quickly, and left the bunny lying dead in the creek bed. Climbing out of the valley, no one saw the two hikers, and we can only assume they had an interesting story to tell when they went home that night. That evening I took everyone involved out for Chinese food, as it was my birthday. The entire dinner in the crowded buffet consisted of ideas on how we could have made the explosives larger, how to time them better, all with no doubt in our minds that we would do it again.

Due to the length of the chapter, I have put it in a seperate file. Something I would like to note is that during the 24 hours after I put this chapter up I broke all my previous records for page views in one day.

http://filer.case.edu/~sad13/MattFarmer.html

If you told me that being on hall council meant that you got dragged into a darkened room lit by candlelight, containing men in suits carrying ancient papers and the odd sword, I would tell you that you are on crack. I’m afraid that this is EXACTLY what I’m going to tell you.

After elections, our hall council consisted of a bunch of my friends and two upperclassmen girls. A hall council training session later, we knew each other pretty well, and I could call Erin and Addie my friends. I liked talking to Erin because she was interesting, and one meeting her boyfriend Mike came before it ended. He waited until we were done, listening to our normally hilarious mix of real issues and Kenny’s comments. I had heard of Mike before, so I went up and talked to him with Erin a little, and called it a night.

Apparently Mike was impressed by me. He was part of the Zeta Psi fraternity, and he asked Erin if I would ever consider going Greek. Through her I told him I was open minded, so he started inviting me down to the house for open dinners, and other random events. I liked the guys at the house, and although I had never thought about it before, I started to consider joining. One evening the Zetes (as they are called) were taking people to an ice skating rink, and I wasn’t planning on going. Erin was mad, because she didn’t want to be the only one she knew there, so she asked my friend Jason to go. When I heard he was going I dropped my inhibitions and took to the ice several hours later. My first time skating saw me fall only twice, with the years of experience skiing coming in handy.

The Fraternity rush period ended, and Jason and I were both extended bids, meaning we could pledge if we wanted to. We both accepted them, and were invited to an “event” this last Friday. We dressed up like we were told, and were taken in the back entrance of the Frat building, through the bowels of the basement and the kitchen. We were taken to a holding room where we stalled some time, and then we were escorted into the largest room in the house. The lights had been turned off, and everyone had on their most formal attire. At the corner of each room were men at tables, surrounded by candles. No one flinched, smiled, or coughed; we proceeded from table to table, where different members of the frat gave speeches. One drew a sword suddenly, surprising all of us.

I’m not sure how much of this I can tell you, so I will stop short of telling you what was said. Anyone reading this could probably care less what was said in this secret gathering, but at no point did I say “Thank you, sir, may I have another!” Being in a fraternity looks to be interesting, and I am not at all sad I am pledging.

Someone told me they overheard another frat’s brothers talking about me, with the conversation going some thing like this:

“Did you hear Sam is pledging Zeta Psi?”
“No. Damn.”
“I know, we almost had him ourselves.”

I have played lots of games throughout my life, and the people I have played with have said many things about me. Some things are positive like “You’re one hell of a lucky bastard” while others are fairly negative “I’m gonna shove that card so far down your throat you’ll be shitting “Plow Under”s for weeks!” All in all, I enjoy playing games, regardless of whether the other player does. I have compiled a description of the things other people have noticed when playing games with me.

• I give advice, early and often. This advice is often what the person was going to do anyway. He then decides NOT to do it, because it must be some trick, and in the end wishes he had done it. He then blames me for devising some cruel trick to make him lose, while in reality I was basically just saying what I’d do in his situation.
• I have lady luck on my side. When rolling a dice, I invariably get the number I need, while you invariably get the number you least want. This applies to D6 all the way to D20, and does not disappear when you change the dice, throw them down the stairs, or at me. Also, in pool the balls seem to have magnetic attractions to the holes ONLY when I am shooting, and repulsions when you are.
• I concentrate. I focus on the game, and give it my attention. When other people are in the room I have been accused of plotting with them to distract my opponent, since he is distracted but I am not.
• Somehow the deck/army/strategy works better for me than when it does for you. If I beat you ten times with my strategy, then we flip just for fun, I still somehow beat you.
• I know rules you haven’t heard of. I can verify some, others I can’t seem to find the page. You claim I made them up, but in reality I just knew a previous rule that would help me out, and if you knew the rules as well, you could call me on the same thing.
• I’m a selfish, greedy, unlawful, unscrupulous pig, mainly because I took your unguarded city when you sent your army to take mine.
• My units do things yours can’t, like build in half the time, move twice as fast, and they invariably have smarter AI than yours do.
• In any argument, Sam will never admit to his being wrong, regardless of whether he is or not. He will adamantly portray himself as being right until he realizes he is wrong, only then will the scoundrel give in.

All this has caused certain conditions to arise when people play games with me. I have listed them in the a recognizable form.

10 Commandments of playing Games with Sam

1. Thou shall not let Sam win, regardless of price.
2. If Sam should win, then claim he didn’t win and that you were warming up, best of 3 (or 5, or 7, or 9, etc.).
3. It is nobler to jump in the lava than to let Sam kill you and gain a frag.
4. If a dice seems to consistently side with Sam, throwing the dice through the air at him will rid the object of its inherent evil.
5. If Sam doesn’t like the idea of best of 3, claim he doesn’t know what he’s talking about and change the subject.
6. If Sam has some slight lead for no particular reason, he’s cheating. Don’t forget to remind him of it.
7. If Sam suggests we institute a new rule that will stop some abuse of the other rules, call him a cheater and claim he is just helping his team. (don’t be swayed if he tries to tell you that you’re on his team, he’s only playing with your mind, he’s tricky like that)
8. Sam is always wrong when it comes to arguing, regardless of how much he knows about it. A corollary is that you always know more than Sam does, he only tries to trick you.
9. If it is a multiplayer game, the first part of the game is always everyone versus Sam, and then the game can progress normally.
10. It is always important to act like you don’t care when you play a game, so that his concentration will look like he’s trying waaaaaay to hard. Afterwards you can say to him “Jeeze man, can’t you play a game for fun?” This will set him up for his crushing defeat the next time you meet on the battlefield.