By Greg Alexander
The brothers of Delta Psi were out, and they were getting hammered.
Trevor was downing his 6th beer of the night, and compared to most of the other guys, he was taking it easy. Across the table from him, Hank, his face flush with red under his Stetson, was gulping down another pint of Guinness. Collin and Reid were grinning and slamming their glasses together forcefully as they gulped down their Logger’s ale. Bryce, for his part, was doing shots of vodka, and although the bottle of absolut in front of him was more empty than full, he seemed only mildly affected. Wes and Shane were the only two pledges who had been invited along. Wes was downing shots with Bryce, trying to keep up, and obviously not succeeding, he was already completely smashed. Shane was sitting next to Trevor and tapping his flip-flop to the beat of the background music in the bar. He had also had his fair share of shots, and his tongue was loose.
They were at Dirty Nick’s, the frat’s favorite hangout. Midterms were finally over, and nobody in the frat had seen their GPA so low that they were in danger of being kicked off any of their teams. It was reason enough to celebrate.
