Into the pit

By Jan Creaser

“It’s dark, it’s loud, it’s sticky. Thursday night finds students swarming to the local watering hole. It’s Den Night. Welcome to Wild University. Tonight we explore the depths of the seediest bar on campus. Ready, Brain?”

“Ready, Professor. Got my fake id and everything.”

“Brain, you’re well over the age limit to get in, what do you need a fake id for? Wait a minute is that top spandex?”

“Yup, I’m just trying to follow the WU rules of undercover conduct. We cannot let the locals know our true identity. You know that better than I, and let’s face it, Allgood, if we go in there with our own id it’s going to look suspicious in a crowd of drunken 18-year-olds.”

“Whatever, but I’m still not keen on that spandex.”

“Well, then I guess it’s good you’re not wearing any. Wait, undo your top button. Good. Let’s go.”

Professor Allgood and Dr. Brain make it through the first line of defence: the bouncers. Professor Allgood receives a cross-eyed look from one of the boys.

“Maybe you were right, Brain. Did you see the way he was looking at me? Brain?”

“Over here! You want something to drink?”

Dr. Brain is leaning provocatively across the bar, eliciting help from the nearest bartender despite the crowded lines.

“Non-alcoholic, Brain. Conduct.”

“Right-o, Professor. One Pepsi and one double tequila paralyzer, please.”


“Oh, lighten up.”

“Well, folks, there you have it. If the good doctor can be influenced by the loud music, dim lighting and lure of alcohol, then surely we can understand what draws these young students into the frightful lair.”

“Here’s your drink, Professor. I’m going to take a tour around, get some footage. Want to come?”

“Yes, that’s a good idea. Movement through the teeming bodies is difficult, increasingly so as we proceed toward the dance floor. Here the youngsters gyrate and writhe to rhythmic tunes both reminiscent of today and years gone by.”

“Holy smokes, Professor! I haven’t heard this song in ages! Not since I was an undergrad at least. Here, hold my drink.”

Dr. Brain pushes into the throng of heaving bodies on the dance floor to the strains of “Stuck in the Middle.”

“Well, folks, at least the lyrics are appropriate. I’m definitely stuck in the middle here.”

“Hey, baby, why don’t you stop talking to yourself and come dance with me.”

An obviously drunk co-ed with a slurring accent grips the Professor’s arm.

“Um, no thanks.”

“C’mon, do a young Aussie a favour. I love you Canadian girls! Let’s dance and then I’ll show you my Crocodile Dundee impression.”

He winks knowingly.

“No, really, I’m fine. Oh, there’s my friend! Brain, over here!”

Professor Allgood tries to break the young Aussie’s grip.

“Oh, hey, I see you’ve met Lance. He’s an exchange student from Australia and he promised to show us how to do a Tasmanian body shot!”

Dr. Brain takes Lance and the Professor each by an arm and guides them to the bar.

(Heated whispers.) “Brain, what are you doing? I don’t think there’s any such thing as a Tasmanian body shot, otherwise I would have heard about it when I was in Tasmania!”

“Oh, relax, Allgood! Besides, he’s cute! “

“Brain, I’m not exactly a teenager! And neither are you!”

“Doesn’t matter. We’re going to scope.”

Dr. Brain disappears into the crowd with Lance, leaving a fuming Allgood behind.

“Well, there you have it, folks. Driven by the pulsating beat of loud music and the inebriating effects of alcohol, these students run wild every Thursday, blowing off steam and, apparently, pent-up sexual frustrations. I’m going to sign off on this note and go in search of my wayward companion Hey! Don’t touch my ass, sleazebag!”

A flurry ensues as the Professor fends off another come-on, this time by a short, pimple-faced frosh.

“Arrgh, what are you? Twelve? What would your mother say? Get out of here!”

The frosh walks away, high-├×ving his buddies by the dartboard.

“Anyway, as I was saying, good night and be thankful that your wild days of youth are over or, if you’re like Dr. Brain, still going. Like the freaking Energizer Bunny”

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