The Night of Decadence finally arrived and all of Heaven was astir. A proclamation had echoed down all the levels of heaven early that Friday morning that the Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit would be leaving the Pearly Gates that evening to attend Wiess College's ungodly party. And so it was that J.C. and his two homeboys - the Father and the Ghost - decided to get sinful with it. The following is an account of their exploits.
The Big Three descended onto the Rice campus around 10 p.m. After parking their Civic in the stadium, the three shimmering white figures strolled over to the hallowed grounds of the Acabowl. Before stepping into the commons, a Wiess social confronted them.
"Who are you guys?" she asked.
"I am the Alpha and the Omega," God responded.
"I am the light of the world," said Jesus.
"Very funny," she said. "Where are your tickets?"
"Alas, now they are in Heaven," said Jesus. "I left them in my dresser."
"Well you need a ticket to get in."
"But I died for your sins," argued Jesus. "Doesn't that count for something?"
The social shook her head. "Looks like you're out of luck, biatch."
Angered by this, God turned the social into a pillar of salt. The Three agreed to split up and search for tickets. Jesus divined a ticket from Brown freshman Todd Andersen by convincing him to go to Night of Praise instead. The other two struck out and decided to go home. They told Jesus they would pick him up at the Sallyport in the morning. Jesus agreed, since he didn't really want to spend NOD with his Dad anyway. The Father and the Ghost bounced, leaving Jesus to fend for himself.
Jesus stepped into the commons and was immediately horrified by all of the scantily clad Rice girls. "Good lord!" he proclaimed. "My Father must have laid an ugly plague on these women!" He fled to the refreshment table and noticed a fountain in the corner with inflatable mermaids on it. Bored, he decided to convert the water into wine. An explosive white flash erupted from his hands - and in an instant, several hundred gallons of water were converted into wine. A rousing cheer went up for Jesus. Drunken, half-naked men came up behind him and slapped him on the back.
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If I had to pick out just one group of people who send me the most hell-spawn, juvenile, incoherent and altogether unhysterical misclass, it is without a doubt that wretched band of geeks in the MOB. Now, for your reading pleasure, I present to you this schload of misclass, all courtesy of our beloved Marching Owl Band. Naturally I have provided comments.
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"Hey! Don't insult my banana!"
A joke about a phallic fruit, ladies and gentlemen. The saddest part is that this is easily the best misclass of the bunch.
"The chart is wrong. I am right."
Yes, but the chart is probably more attractive than you, and that's something you can never take away from the chart.
"I'm a hooker!"
No, actually you're a kid who dresses up like a gangster on Saturdays and probably on other days when nobody's watching. The average halftime show involves you strutting around the football field in your cheap sunglasses while thousands of fans contemplate the most violent way to destroy you. I suggest you get out while you can.
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"I'm going to have sex for a straight month, and get back to work later."
Sure you are, buddy. Sex before math, right? What a big pimp you are - I bet you hit it with all the drum majors. Don't get me wrong. Girls tell me all the time that they sweat guys who can work their trumpets.
"Shut up, or Harriet's going to get all medieval on your ass."
This summer while I was working at a summer camp, there was a kid in my cabin who told me he was "gonna get medieval on my ass." Of course that particular phrase is now so over-quoted and cliché that all the other kids in my cabin ribbed him about it for three days. He was also sent to the Program Director for saying "ass." So now you can rest easy knowing that you are about as funny as my 11-year-old camper.
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Pleased with himself, Jesus wandered up to the five-man. He took some shots and talked it up with Bobby and Fred, two guys from Sid.
"Yeah, I hate Creed too," Jesus said.
Fred looked up and down at Jesus. "Hey, man. I think you're getting taller."
"Oh, that's just cause I'm floating on all of this leaking keg water."
Bobby sipped his beer. "That's pretty sweet, Jesus."
"Yeah, I've been able to do it since I was a kid."
"We're gonna go hotbox the OC shitter," said Fred. "You wanna tag along?"
"Sorry, but I don't believe in devil-worship." Jesus blessed the boys and wandered outside.
Jesus went back downstairs. The remaining Wiess social was flipping out because her counterpart was a big pillar of salt and there was no more beer left in the commons. Jesus walked over to one of the floated steel drums and placed his hands on it. After another brilliant white flash, the keg was full again. Jesus proudly proclaimed that the beer from this keg would never run dry. The keg refreshed the parched throats of 5,000 students. And it was good.
The night wore on. Jesus drank more. Things got blurry. He became less omniscient. The girls looked better. He drank more.
The next morning, Jesus woke up disoriented. His mouth tasted like tequila and his robe had disappeared. He remembered nothing. Satan, dressed up as Tinkerbell, was passed out next to him with a satisfied smile on her face. "Jesus Christ!" he exclaimed and ran out out of the room.
Baker sophomore Kate Hughes was the last person to see Jesus that Saturday morning. She testifies that Jesus streaked across the main quad and made a beeline for a blue Civic that was parked on the Inner Loop next to the Sallyport. Hughes believes that she saw the faintest of smiles on Jesus's face, but admits that she was still pretty drunk at the time.
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