So we’re sittin’ around the room thinkin’ about fun and creative ways to glorify both ourselves and alcohol.

Drew sez, "Well, we could do a Marston Quad-sized installation piece entitled ‘Giant Drew and Richard Heads Drink a 40 Oz. of Olde English Malted Beverage’ using only the media of broken 40 oz. bottles, burnt grass, and Marston Quadrangle."

"Or we could fill Pendleton Pool with malt liquor and crouch in the bushes until late at night, and when ‘funny’ kids tried to sneak in, we’d stand up and point and laugh saying, ‘Ha ha! It’s not water! It’s malt liquor!’ Then we’d pee on their clothes," Richard suggested.

"Or," Drew added, "We could take the I.E. spaceship to President Peter W. Stanley’s front yard and claim it as property of the Inland Emperors, with the 40 oz flag and a big speech and a barbeque, where we could make Olde English-ka-bobs and fried Olde English sticks."

Then Richard said, "What? What the H-E-double hockey sticks is a fried Olde English stick?"

Richard Caperton The Scared Bitch Project: Coming soon to a theater near you.

Drew said, "I’m sorry. I guess I got carried away." Then he hit himself. Then he bit the top off of a fresh, new bottle of O.E. He almost took a sip, but before the jagged glass reached his lips, he put his finger in the air and made a dingy sound. "I’m sick of drinking 40’s in the room! I want action! I want danger! I want drama and excitement! I wanna save the day! I wanna get the girl! I wanna book the bad guy! I wanna bag your mom! I wanna fight freaky dead people with their own freaky, dead, twisted limbs! I wanna go to the Oak Park Cemetery in Claremont and fight the forces of darkness with 40 oz bottle in hand!"

Then Richard said, "Oh, alright. I’m just gonna brush my teeth, okay?"

"Okay," Drew said. Then he got his dead person-fighting gear on and put Saran Wrap over the top of the 40 oz, so he could take it in the car, of course.

(Now, at this point, it’s helpful if you are reading this with a buddy. One buddy (we’ll refer to you as Buddy #1) should read this in a spooky voice with a flashlight at your chin pointed up your nose while the other buddy (yeah, Buddy #2, you got it!) makes spooky noises and scratches the floor with a shovel).

We got in the car and took College Avenue south and after passing Arrow Highway, followed the signs. We parked the car several blocks away from the gates (which were "ominously" wide open at "the witching hour," or midnight) because we didn’t want no freaky dead people keyin’ our car or slashin’ our tires. You know how freaky dead people are. You can’t trust ‘em. They got beady eyes. We got out the Mag-Lites and a 40 for Drew and a few 40’s extra (just in case in the course of our battle versus the freaky dead people we realized that, in the end, it was really all about peace and harmony, and malt liquor).

So we walked in the front gate, and an owl swooped down outta nowhere and took our Mag-Lites! Aiee! (Buddy #2, make the sound of an owl swooping down outta nowhere and taking our Mag-Lites!) Stupid owl! But we weren’t scared. (Now Buddy #2 should make the shovel sound louder as our fears materialize. Bwooahaha!!) Then we heard the sound of freaky dead people! (Buddy #2! Freaky dead people noises! Like they’re having a freaky dead people ice cream social!) So Drew drank himself some courage, a whole bottle of courage, and threw the empty bottle into the darkness where the sound was coming from. There was a breaking glass sound (that’s you, Buddy #2! Break your roommate’s glass ballerina collection!) and we heard the freakiest voice we’ve ever heard say the freakiest thing we’ve ever heard, "Ow! What the shit!" (Buddy #1, if you’re not comfortable using the word "shit," replace it with "crap" or "nuts" or "hey")

Richard Caperton When Drew dies from a poison liver, he’ll be buried right here.

Goths! Confound it! We realized that we had disrupted the weekly meeting of the Vampyre (With a "Y") Club, Claremont Chapter #238. There was nothing for us to do but fight! (Buddy #2, go ahead and take a break. You done good. Buddy #1, do the theme from Night Rider for the next few sentences, okay?) The Vampyres made a feeble Wall-o-Death, Red Rover-style, that Richard and Drew quickly broke through. Then Richard took away their red wine and replaced it with one of the spare 40’s, to which the Vampyres hissed and spat! Drew said, "Calm down, calm down. If you don’t want it, I’ll take it," and took it. In this moment of "weakness" (that’s open to debate) the Vampyres quickly removed their black trench coats, sewed a crude net, and trapped us! What were we to do!? Drew thought to himself, "Hmm, what do I usually do in times of stress?" Then he pulled another spare 40 oz. out of the bag and took some sips. Richard looked at Drew’s intemperance with envy, knowing full well that if they made it out of the graveyard alive, he’d have to drive. So as we end this paragraph, the Inland Emperors are up to their eyeballs in trouble! Stick around, Pomona Student, for the next paragraph!

In this paragraph, a freaky dead person came up behind the Vampyres and said, "Hey, guys. Cool it. You know, I’ve learned a lot bein’ dead and all, and the most important thing I’ve learned is that, in the end, it’s all about peace and harmony, and malt liquor, and hot dance moves!" So the Vampyres gleefully freed us from our trench coat captivity and we all lined up, the Inland Emperors, the Vampyre (With a "Y") Club, Claremont Chapter #238, and some freaky dead person. Then the freaky dead person taught us a hot new step (which was obviously lifted from Michael Jackson’s 11-minute epic music video, "Thriller"), and we all learned a lesson about peace and harmony. And Drew was pretty fucked up.