ManicWorld Magazine

When I got to the party, I didn’t plan on staying for the after hour “festivities”. I may have enjoyed the whiskey leading up to them, but I doubt it.

I seemed to be floating above about ten hipsters. They were freaking out around me. I have no idea what time it was. The sun hadn’t come up yet. But, I did it! My “college experience.”

Earlier in the semester I was in Calculus at the front of the class, scribbling down any sound that screeched from the professor’s mouth. She was smart with the knowledge I needed and that I struggled to comprehend. It’s the university. My graduating high school GPA barely got me in and prepped me for it.

I didn’t think I was pathetic even though my parents poked at me over the phone every other day. “Live a little… You’re in college… The things Mom and I used to do… Are you interested in any girl in particular at school? Are you interested in girls?” Sometimes I would hear my Dad tell my Mom that he wished she woulda’ let him hire that prostitute for me when I turned 18. He thought it would’ve gotten the ball rolling.

Megan who sat next to me in class, got me. We would exchange notes and even met once at a coffee shop to study for midterms. We were both idealistic and she seemed to be extreme. But, I thought she was pretty. I think she enjoyed our conversations because I didn’t think it was my face with acne and uneven stubble that was reeling her in.

We both sipped cappuccinos across from one another like most of the patrons with our books spread across the table, hogging the seats for hours on end, thinking our one cup of $4 coffee covered the overhead. Though, that was the wildest thing I had done all semester. I felt I was a “normal” 18-year-old at that moment. I was living the college experience.

I said paper straws are the way and she said less people in the world was the solution. I was intimidated when she pulled a cigarette from her purse. Was my future wife really a smoker? When she struck a match and lit her cigarette so fluid, I was impressed. She proclaimed she’s doing her part. Cancer runs in her family. She had the “gene.” she didn’t think she would live to my parent’s age. That fact possibly ruined any future chance of us having kids. But, she did invite me to a party later that night. Our relationship seemed to be moving right along.

Well, a friend of hers called while we were sitting there and invited her. I sensed she felt awkward and obligated to invite me. Most people never felt obligated with me. She must be the one!

My parents were excited when I told them over the phone and I was relieved to be able to pass that news to them.

Now was this a date? Was the coffee shop a date? I mean it can’t be coincidence. One of these has to be labeled a date, right? Hmmm I had never been on one to say for sure.

When was getting dressed in my dorm, I asked my roommate if he thought this was a date. He gave me a quick thumbs up and quickly pushed his earbuds back in. Our official conversation word count for the semester was still zero.

It was a Friday night. There weren’t any students around or any pep rallies to avoid so I knew I could cut through the quad for a short cut.

I finally arrived at a run-down off-campus house. I could already hear the music when I was a block away… I walked past the house a few times to build up courage before I could convince myself to enter. Now I knew why people showed up drunk to parties. I’ve never drank before and I felt like I needed a drink.

I finally stepped through the door into a sea of sweaty bodies. The foggy room had a sweet smell mixed with body odor along with the deafening mixture of music and yelling over the music which was irritating. It seemed like they should pick one noise pollution and stick with it. Talking or music?! Pick!

Suddenly, there was Megan!

She was smoking a cigarette with a beer in hand, deep in conversation with her friends. More idealistic talk. She would probably want me to join. She was also sitting in a guy’s lap. She spots me. “Hey, you made it! Grab a beer and join us!”

Who’s the guy? But, I even I knew I couldn’t ask that! Not yet at least…

I agreed and went in search of a beer. I found a line in the kitchen that I stood in. I studied the apparatus and the technique of people in front of me. A tank with a hose and nozzle connected to it. It spit a beer/foam concoction. I was getting nervous. The line was moving and I noticed the better the operator, the more beer than foam. They’re pumping it! How many times should I pump?! I have no idea! And now it’s my turn!

I stared at the nozzle. I grabbed a cup and pulled the trigger. It shot foam across the counter. I
have to pump! Two pumps… Three pumps?! More foam! Should I start pumping again? Is it jammed with air? The frat guy behind me with the stank breath was screaming at me now! Would it be weird if I asked him to pour my beer for me?

I spotted a bottle further down on the counter. It looked so much easier so I grabbed the bottle and filled my cup. I think it’s gasoline! It turned out to be a whiskey. I filled the cup all the way up to the rim and headed back to Megan.

She’s gone! I didn’t see her anywhere… I headed up stairs. I found a room with a bunch of second-hand couches. There’s Megan with that guy. They were on the couch kissing. She’ll soon realize he’s not the right guy and would never stick around even after giving her a lifetime commitment. He would certainly default on child support. She would realize. I thought I would wait for that argument to go down while I sat on a couch away from them.

I looked down and saw the bottom of my cup. I felt weird. I had subconsciously done nervous sips throughout my journey from downstairs to here. The room was starting to spin. I closed my eyes and tilted my head back… The room still whirled around in the darkness… I took some deep breaths. I don’t have a good feeling about this. People did this every weekend? This is what I had been missing out on.

My eyes opened… I looked around to get my bearings. I was still on the couch, but I wasn’t sure how much time had passed. I could see the window and it was still dark out. Megan and her guy were gone. I assumed she broke up with him and was emotionally putting herself back together before returning to me.

The couches had been circled and I was in the middle. They were already midway through a game while I was ignored and passed out amongst them. There was some puke on the front my shirt. I wondered if it was mine.

There was about a dozen of them around me. They all looked like the same person. The tattoos, clothing, facial hair, and piercings all seemed to match. Must’ve been that factory conveyor belt of the “college experience.” It could’ve also just been the whiskey still fogging my thought process.

One of them held a revolver pistol. He spun the cylinder part of the gun that held the cartridges. Everyone screamed when he stopped short of putting the barrel to his head then laughed when he threw it on the coffee table. Another guy picked it up waving it around. He spun the cylinder and then put the barrel to his head. The guy’s girlfriend screamed and he acted to relentlessly slide it back down on the coffee table.

She got in his face and slurred, “I couldn’t bear the thought of living without you, Baby!” They started kissing.

That’s how they do it! That’s how you live the college experience. Just be completely full of shit! Again, whiskey… Blame it on the whiskey… I supposed…

I stepped up! “Give me that thing! You’re all so full of shit!” I think they were impressed that I was calling them out.

I grabbed the gun and spun the cylinder. My finger went over the trigger and I pushed the barrel to my head… CLICK… Nothing. I spun it again… CLICK…

I screamed, “Is this thing even loaded?!” I spun… Then put barrel back to the side of my head… CLICK.

I spun. “Fuck this place. And fuck all of you.” I placed the barrel on my cranium once more…
And… squeezed… CRACK!

The gun went off… I actually pulled the trigger. I was the one who wasn’t full of shit. I had the balls. This was the “thing” I did in college!

I felt like I was hovering over everyone. I looked down at the hipsters freaking out and my lifeless body centered amongst the commotion. My face was peaceful even with the blood trickling from my temple.

The light was starting to fade and I was having trouble seeing when Megan entered with her guy in tow. She screamed and buried herself in his chest. I guess they didn’t break up after all…