The Bikini Brawl

Peter was the first to admit this was a sweltering hot start of the summer.

For days now the whole fraternity had been in desperate need of some refreshment.

Howard ‘Dog’ Clyde had been stretched out on the couch all morning. Squeezing the handle of that squeaky mini-fan of his with all his might to make it go faster. Aiming it at every possible place on his limp body – even parts he should be very careful not to hold it too close to!

Maxwell ‘Hammerhead’ Smith had spent so much time in the shower since breakfast, he’d either been desperate to cool off, or the shower sinkhole was now in desperate need of cleaning.

Which the pledges would of course be happy to do later on.

Burke ‘The Maniac’ Vanderbilt had run handfuls of ice cubes all over his chest. He’d even sat down on a pile of them and gotten one stuck in an unfortunate place. Lucky for him, those things melted. So there had been no need to get the nurse and a flashlight.

Timothy ‘Little Guy’ Faber had even invented a brand new drinking game that made him pass out in under a minute, allowing him to sleep through the hottest hours of the day.

It was so bad they’d even been forced to put an extra bowl of beer in the pledge cages.

And although it was cheap beer, the pledges had lapped it up like there was no tomorrow.

In all his years as president of the Tri-Alphas, Peter had never seen it so bad.

He was starting to worry about the well-being of his brothers!

Which was why he had already sent out the pledges to go get a swimming pool.

He hadn’t given them any money -because the fraternity had none- and it was a long walk into town. So Peter wasn’t sure if they’d make it back alive. And even if they did, it was uncertain what they’d be bringing back. It could be a kiddy pool found in a garbage can.

Or a couple of rusty barrels from the local scrapyard.

Peter wasn’t planning to be picky about it.

If what they brought back could hold water and fit a brother, they’d use it. And if that still wasn’t enough to help them cool off, they’d have to resort to more drastic measures! Even if it meant an all-ice-cream diet and letting the pledges dig an underground fraternity house in the backyard.

Whatever it took to keep his brothers from turning into roast beef!

And yet…

Looking at the brother lying face down in the hallway, Peter couldn’t help but think that maybe this was going a bit TOO far. The huge mountain of a guy had barely made it through the door (which had quickly been closed behind him to keep the heat out), before collapsing at the foot of the stairs. Now he lay there crying in a puddle, oozing water from his nose and ears and burping up more of it.

“Dude, what did you do?” asked Peter as he looked at his drenched brother.

The guy was roughly twice the size of the average brother and had a tough-looking face. The kind you’d hurt your hand on if you were foolish (or drunk) enough to try punching it.

Seeing a guy like that bawl his eyes out was a little unnerving.

It made Peter think this might not have been a self-inflicted attempt to cool off.

“Dude,” he said, squatting down, “It looks like someone emptied a swimming pool on your head.”

The guy’s giant-sized pants were halfway down his legs, drenched. The fancy new blazer he’d put on before leaving the house earlier, now looked like the kind of wet rag the pledges wore after getting hosed down in the backyard for their evening bath. But Dan ‘The Mountain’ Daniels was not a pledge. And as Peter had seen the guy leave an hour earlier, he knew for a fact that it really had been a nice blazer.

In fact, it had been such a nice blazer that they’d all made fun of the guy!

They’d even considered (out loud) changing his name to ‘Momma’s Big Boy’ to fit the blazer.

In return, The Mountain had threatened to break their faces. And told them, for the umpteenth time, that he wasn’t meeting his mother, but his gran. Then he’d taken off, whistling. Realizing that if his brothers thought he looked like a fool, he was dressed just about right to appease his grumpy old grandma. Which was a good thing, seeing as she paid for his pretending to study for a law degree.

It made Peter wonder.

Had his GRAN poured out ten thousand gallons of water over his head?

Had she found out he was actually studying to become an elementary school teacher, and decided she didn’t like that? Had she tried to drown him? Had he then broken HER face in order to get out alive? Was he now on the run from the law? Or worse, from his mom?

So many questions!

But The Mountain didn’t answer any of them.

Perhaps it had something to do with the water that was still leaking out of his ears.

Peter squatted closer to his head and raised his voice: “DUDE, ARE YOU ALRIGHT?”

“Chief, there were too many!” The Mountain managed to say, before burping up more water.

“Too many WHAT?” asked Peter.

About a dozen fraternity guys had gathered around by now and looked just as curious.

“Too many WHAT, Mountain?” Peter asked again. “Too many water bottles that fell off the supply truck as you walked by? Too many seconds your gran held you underwater? Too many regrets about ignoring the traffic signs when you approached the river?”

Peter gesticulated to his fallen brother to go on and explain a bit more.

“GIRLS!” said The Mountain. His eyes widened. “Too many GIRLS IN BIKINIS!”

Peter stood up, crossed his arms, and shook his head with a worried expression on his face.

“The poor guy must be hallucinating or something,” he said. “If he’s not drunk, that might be a sign that something is wrong. Imagine all of us starting to think there can be such a thing as too many girls in bikinis! We better lock him into his room in case it’s contagious. After all, we have that mixer with the Sigma Deltas tomorrow night, and-”

The Mountain grabbed Peter by his sweaty shirt.

“They’re coming, Chief!” he cried, eyes wide with fear.

“Who’s coming?” asked Peter. “Dude, WHAT THE HELL HAPPENED?”