Ah, a twenty-first birthday. Discovered on a whim in the grassy area outside Nicholson Hall. To the bar, my friends! There goes Latin class. Clouds of smoke, terrible whiskey bi-products and five grown men packed into one not very grown Golf. We drink turkey and the day begins to snowball. Graduation now seems like a hazy dream we're only now awaking from. Reality - firm, lively reality - sets in. We see now that we've not skipped school, no - we've broken out of prison. Run, run, before they set the hounds against you!
Later, Evan W. hid in cheap Ginger Ale. He's on a binge. Reckless man, creating just as much satisfaction as dissatisfaction, two sides of the same coin. Is anyone here happy? No! Momentum, however, is overwhelming.
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