“COME OUT COME OUT WHEREVER YOU AAAAAHHH!!!” screamed Sherlock Brolmes as he took a sledgehammer to the wooden wall of Zeta Zeta Zeta’s basement, looking for their stolen composite picture. Bottle caps, beer cans, and used whip-it containers spilled out of the wall space like some bizarre piñata. He dove after the detritus like a candy-deprived child.
“What’s he doing? He’s destroying our house!” said the Tri-Zete president, Abroham Lincoln, as the crowd of other Tri-Zetes just stood there and giggled.
“This is how he works,” I said, hoping the damage wouldn’t be too bad this time. “Say, I’ve heard you have some crazy names for your pledges.” Indeed, Tri-Zete was known for its ornate bro-puns.
“Indeed, Tri-Zete is known for its ornate bro-puns,” said Abroham. “This dude here is Sombroro, then we got Sombrebro, Sombrobro, Aurora Brorealis, Brorora Brorealis, Brobrobro Brorealis, and Steven.”
“Hey guys, what’s happening?” said Steven. An uncomfortable silence permeated the room. I deduced Steven must have been a summer pledge.
“EVIDENCE! THE ELEMENTS ARE COMING TOGETHER!!!” screamed Sherlock Brolmes as he smashed a pong table in half with his sledgehammer and ran out of the basement holding a shattered piece of wood in his hand.
It was anybody’s guess where he would go next. I assured the band of bros that they would receive their prized composite, but the night was still young. I mean, for God’s sake, EBA’s was still open!