Good Morning Alpha

Ugh, whose alarm is that?

I wake up in a room effectively lined from wall to wall with air mattresses. Mine is in the middle because Pacem's and Bhop's are the same height and they have no interest in rolling into one another. I wander out into the kitchen to find Phil in his boxers.

"Hey Pika,"

"What,"

"Can I have some of your Nutella?"

"Yeah."

Down the hall speakers are screaming. "You drive me crazy! I just can't sleep. I'm so excited..."

Numbers is standing at the door of his and Roo's room. The sudden opening of the door has made Roo's morning music choice apparent to the whole household.

If I was a man I might have considered rushing a fraternity but sorority life never appealed to me. We got a guitar last night, which brings this atmosphere as close as I ever think it will be to living in a frat house.

***

"We don't like that word," my project partner informs me. Its sophomore year of college, and he is glaring at me over the rims of rather square glasses, purple polo shirt with the collar popped. I'm waiting on the Dave Mathews Band reference.

"Its very offensive," he informs me.

"What?"

"Frat. I mean...you wouldn't call your country your cunt would you?"

"What?"

"Then don't call my fraternity a frat."

"Wouldn't I...call my country my count?"

***

Phil may like the taste of this stuff, but he's the only one. Pacem, Numbers, Sempai, and I are sitting in a circle with shotglasses and a can of the yellow can of energy drink in the middle. Numbers and Sempai brought back five cases of it since it was free, and we have become progressively more desperate in our attempts to get rid of it over time.

"Alright," Numbers says, "We're going to drink a can of this together."

"Why did you get five glasses?" Pacem asks

Sempai nods, "We can fix this...hey Roo!"

We can hear the voice from across the house, "What?"

"Come do shots with us?"

"Sweet!"

Roo rounds the corner grinning like a kid at Christmas until he sees the can of brawndo. "Aww hell no, this stuff is plutonium. I'll be pissing green for a week."

The scientist in me is intrigued, "Does it really make you piss green?"

"Yeah," Sempai returns.

"I think your kidneys just scream 'fuck that shit' outright."

Roo chickens out after the first shot, and I have a little bit of trouble with my second. Numbers takes four like a champ and we line the can up on the windowsill an array that makes the white trash in each and every one of us proud.

There are fourteen shots in a can of brawndo for the record.

***

"Womanizer womanizer womanizer oh!" screams the laptop.

"Is that...coming from the bathroom?" Pacem asks.

"Its Roo," Numbers answers, as if this explains everything.

In some senses it does. At the very least the echos off the tile explain why the whole house seems to be a speaker by this point.

Numbers sits down on an adjacent couch with a paper towel and two strawberry pop tarts. He nods in my direction and holds one up, "Breakfast of champions."

"Oh man," Roo says, coming out of the shower, "You know what Sunday is going to be?"

We all turn to look at him. We all know the answer but still somewhat don't believe it.

"Omlettes and porn!"

While I'm not exactly one to turn down free food, I'm also not eager to sit around with my six male housemates and watch porn together.

"Don't worry," he Roo says comfortingly, "I make great omelettes."