The American College of Switzerland Zoo. James E. Henderson
and the level area became the playing field. When the game turned coed, I joined in. There was plenty of throwing, running, blocking, and tackling, but I doubt anyone knew or cared about the score. Late in the merriment, Dee Dee, the brown-eyed one of the fab… ahh… two grabbed the football and ran past me. I caught her around the waist, and we crashed to the ground. Unfortunately, I landed on her leg, spraining her ankle, so she christened me her official “beast of burden.” I carried her piggyback from place to place watching the dwindling revelry. Soon it was time for the long hike back to the school. Showing off, I helped Dee Dee up onto my shoulders and handed her our wine bottle. Sam, the cute all-American partier, decided to join our group as we staggered down the dirt path toward the upper village. Sam, like Wilds, had hair that fell into her face when she was drunk, and at this point, except for her feet and lovely breasts, you couldn’t tell which way she was facing.
As we walked, Sam started saying how fun it would be to roll down the pasture on our side. I strongly suggested it would not be a good idea because she wouldn’t stop rolling before she hit Aigle, four thousand feet below. She laughed, threw her hair out of her eyes, took a swig from her wine bottle, and tucked her arm under my arm and Dee Dee’s leg.
The walk along the path began to take on a surrealistic edge as my alcohol and exhaustion started to show. It seemed to stretch on forever, and I was viewing it in small fragments as my eyes closed and opened every few steps. Suddenly, I was brought to my senses as Dee Dee clonked me on the head with the wine bottle. As my eyes opened, I saw Sam was starting to lean over to roll down the green cliff. Without loosing Dee Dee, I grabbed Sam and pulled her up and along the path. As we walked further down the path, I once again lapsed into darkness. Then a thump on the head, and my eyes would pop open in time to see Sam dancing on the edge of oblivion or squatting on the side looking down, and it would start over again.
It seemed like I had walked for days, and it was dark before we got to the main building. I fought my way up the stairs carrying the one girl and dragging the other to the entrance of the girls’ dorm. As I set Dee Dee down, she gave me a quick peck of gratitude on the cheek. Then, not to be outdone, Sam laid a big, sloppy, wet one on my lips. Her breath smelled like vinegar, but she was a cute drunk! Arm in arm, Sam and Dee Dee helped each other up the steps into the dorm.
I staggered and slid my way back down the path to our dorm, then up the elevator to my room. Tiny hadn’t returned yet. I peed forever, brushed my teeth, and slid into bed. My stomach was roiling as I lay on my back in the darkness. Had I had enough wine to keep the cheese from solidifying? Was my bed rocking? Then it happened; my bed rose from the floor and flipped upside-down on the ceiling with me clinging to the mattress! OH SHIT! I turned my head to the side to look at the floor, ceiling, or whatever, and the bed righted itself! That was it! The floor was down, and I was sprinting across it toward the bathroom. I made it just in the knick of time. All of that wine and bread and cheese came shooting out of my mouth! Again and again it came until I only had dry heaves left. When those ceased, I just sat on the floor in my misery hugging the porcelain bowl. It felt cool against my flaming cheeks. After a while I staggered back to my room. Tiny had returned and was sprawled fully dressed across his bed. I didn’t try to wake him. I just brushed my teeth again and lowered myself carefully onto the bed worried that I might soon be hanging from the ceiling. Later, I was awakened as Tiny went running out the door, no doubt on a mission similar to my earlier one.
Chapter Ten
Hell House
The evening before the student council elections, Willie, who was running for president, held a knockdown drag-out party in the lower village. He had rented a room and sprung for several kegs of beer. There was music and dancing at first. Then, as the evening wore on, someone started a gross-out contest. I would put Willie at the top of the list because of the results, but the event appeared to be spontaneous. First a burping contest, then underarm farts, and one really loud, nasty fart! Wilds had just taken a slug of beer when the butt report occurred and his initial convulsion of laughter sent two streams of beer out his nostrils! This act, whether intentional or not, gave him an early lead in the contest. Then, they were off to the races! The whole thing was kind of a whirlwind of twisted faces, odd sounds, and various exposed body parts: several moons, one trouser snake, and a set of gazongas that were more glorious than gross. Admittedly, I don’t remember looking at the owner’s face, just some long blonde hair falling on each side of the globes, but she definitely got my vote! Then, before whoever it was could get her bra back on, Tiny grabbed her, threw her on his shoulders, and nuzzled his large nose and chin into her panties. This brought squeals of shock and delight from the victim and many of the female observers and loud guffaws from the guys. Tiny had jumped into the lead!
At this point, things seemed to slow down, so I found Dee Dee, who was chuckling nearby, and started talking with her. After all, I had carried her down the mountain on my shoulders. Because I was talking to her, I missed seeing the action retreat to one corner of the room, but shortly thereafter groans and cries of “Gross,”“Holy Shit” and “Yuck” seemed to come from that corner. This lasted for a while, and I didn’t have a clue what was going on until Wilds came squirting out of the group and running in my direction. “He ate shit!” he yelled, “He ate shit!”
When he calmed down I got the story. One of the truly drunk contestants decided that he could win the contest by taking a dump in one of the flowerpots around the room. The crowd had circled him and goaded him on until they saw that he was really doing it, then they sat there in curious amazement. However, after this putrid performance, Willie had stuck a finger into the pot and come out with a small dark brown fragment that he popped into his mouth with great relish, accompanied by an disgusting wretch.
Now I suppose that someone could get drunk enough to eat shit. Someone could even be highly motivated enough to do it for a desired result. But knowing Willie, I doubted both. He drank a lot but seemed to keep it under control, and he wasn’t stupid enough to chance whatever parasites or germs were in those feces. I suspect that he had somehow set this whole thing up and had a chunk of softened and shaped dark Swiss chocolate hidden in his palm when he reached into that pot. This, along with the drunken crowd, set the stage for one of the most amazing victories of all times at a gross-out party. Whatever the truth of the event, the results were in, and Willie had not only won the contest but was elected student council president the next day.
After Wilds finished telling his “gross” story, I turned to find that Dee Dee had left me standing once again! This time I didn’t even get a peck on the cheek. Not that Wilds’ story would have stimulated any such reaction. Therefore, Wilds and I found our way back to the dorm on our own, as usual.
By the afternoon following the election, Willie had moved into a room by himself – one of the benes of being president. I didn’t mind having a roommate, but it would be cool to have my own room.
Shortly after that I was in Le Nord and overheard a group of people, including our new president, talking about forming a fraternity in the sophomore dorm. My first instinct was that Willie was pulling Bob’s chain. Bob was a pudgy-faced, slicked-haired sophomore with the personality of a born-and-bred politician (you know, that tattooed “trust me” smile with a “vacancy” sign on the forehead). He was one of the losers from the student council campaign. Willie wasn’t saying much, but I couldn’t quite believe that Bob had come up with the idea on his own, and the idea seemed doomed to failure if only because of the lack of focus in the sophomore dorm.
I mentioned the conversation to Wilds and my feelings that the idea was doomed when I ran into him later, and he agreed, although he said that he always wanted to be a frat guy and added, “I didn’t stand a chance in a real fraternity. But no respectable Greek organization would bother with us.”
“Speak for yourself!” I said, jokingly.
“I meant our tiny college.”
A strange thing happened that weekend: Stallone, Jolie, and Bernd were sitting in Le Nord talking with Bob and praising his idea of a fraternity. None of this made sense until I mentioned it to my roommate, Tiny. “It’s all part of the plan,” he said. “Bob runs the dorm, keeps the records, pays the bills, and answers to the school administration while we get booze and