An Experiment

On a gloomy Halloween night, my roommate and I were in our dorm room, gathered around a table. In the center of the table lay two empty beer cases. They were duct taped to each other and filled with crushed beer cans. On the edges of the boxes protruded four stacks of empty cans that were glued together. They all extended to the end of the table. Two of the stacks were parallel and they ended in liquor handles on the side of the table that we stood at. The necks of the bottles were inserted into the end of each stack. The right and left stacks ended in five double sized shot glasses with the openings facing in. From the top protruded a third box leftover from a finished twelve pack of beer. The left side laid open while the right was closed.

I turned to my roommate. "Pete. There's only one thing left to do."

Pete clicked his tongue. "There’s actually several steps left."

"OK, you know what the fuck I meant, dude. Go get the fucking six pack of wine."

I am sick of Pete's shit. He's always doing shit like this. I try to sound badass and he ruins it by splitting hairs over stupid little details.

Pete meandered over to the fridge. He opened the door and took a long chug from the beer he held in his hand before he dipped his head into the fridge. When Pete emerged, he was holding a six pack with small plastic bottles of wine, just as I requested.

I breathed, "And now for the brain."

"You don't have to keep narrating everything dude. It got old after the first arm," Pete complained.

"Well, it was my idea, so I get to narrate it if I want, fuck head." I gritted my teeth.

Pete didn't push the point. He took the "brain" and placed it in the open end of the empty 12 pack, which would function as our creations head. I picked up a roll of duct tape then folded the open flaps shut. I pulled off a small tab of tape and attached it to the top of the seam. I proceeded to run the tape down the length of the box. When I had reached the desired length, I tore the tape off and fastened it down by pressing my hands along the length of it.

"Now there's only one step left. And I’m not exaggerating this time.” I pointed at Pete for emphasis. “Pre-last step shots?"

"Fuck it," Pete pushed a shot glass sitting on the table in my direction. “Let's do it."

We filled the glasses with our favorite liquor: GutRot brand Vodka. It only costs four dollars a handle and, if you do the math, this allows us to maximize percent alcohol per cent.

We slammed the medicinal liquid to the back of our throats and, with a grimace, slammed the glasses back into the table.

"Bring me... The Juice!" I exclaimed.

“The Juice!" Pete hustled back to the fridge, pumping his fist in the air.

What Pete retrieved from the fridge was a jug with a dark green liquid. It was a concoction commonly referred to as “Jungle Juice” or “Wap”, a mixture made when you want to clear out your liquor cabinet by combining all of your leftover alcohol and smothering the bitter, sharp bite with a sweet, syrupy juice.

While Pete walked back, I picked up a beer bong. I held the funnel end of the apparatus up, and inserted the tube into the lowest of three holes in the recently taped box.

We both held our breath as my assistant poured the juice into the funnel. The pace was slow at first but as the flow steadied, he poured more quickly. The liquid pulsed up and down in the tube as if there was a source of pulsating suction within the monstrosity that lay on the table.

When the container was empty and the last of the concoction disappeared inside of the monster, we both looked on with anticipation. Two hours of hard work were about to pay off as our creation came to life. We watched as seconds dragged to minutes and… nothing happened after fifteen minutes.

"This shit is boring," I complained. "Want a beer?"

"I'd have a beer," Pete replied excitedly.

The minutes continued to tick past as we talked about our apathetic professors, our stupid classmates, and our boring classes. When I checked the clock again we had been sitting there an hour.

I turned to Pete and sighed. "Nothing's gonna happen, is it?"

Pete shook his head. "Nah man. It would have helped if we gave ourselves more than a week to do this. Or if we were sober when we came up with the idea. Or if we hadn’t put the entire thing off until today."

"Yeah. We didn't do any of the research we planned on doing." I looked down, glumly. If only I had prioritized studying, just this once.

"Well, uh," Pete slapped his legs, “I'm gonna head down the hall to Jerry's room and, uh..." he stood and headed for the door, "figure out what they're all doing tonight. I guess."

"Yeah. Sounds good man. I'll be over in a sec."

The door closed behind Pete and I gathered my thoughts. I glumly sat there alone. I couldn't start hanging out with the guys still thinking of our failure. It would put the whole night in a sour mood.

I continued to work the situation over in my head. I had seen the steps to create life in a drunken delirium and I was sure that it was a divine message. As I wracked my brain to see if I missed any steps from the dream, the clanking sound of empty cans signified that Pete was back.

I whipped my head over to the door. "Pete, what the fuck. Don't bring anyone back… here."

I was shocked into speechlessness.The door was closed and Pete wasn’t there. I looked over to our creation on the table with hope and excitement. I held my breath looking for some sort of movement. I let out an agitated sigh upon realizing that it wasn’t going to move.

So I'm just hearing things then. I sighed and pulled myself together and out of the chair. As I shuffled out of the room, I heard the noise of rattling cans again, and again, and again. And I thought, wait, that's a cliché! I turned to the pile of beer boxes and cans expectantly.

The left arm of the creation spasmed as a grunt came from it. Its stubby glass fingers reached up to the cieling.

Now I know what you're thinking. Clichés are bad in writing and I just used one. All I have to say is: you’re right. For the avid reader, count all the cliches and compare them to the author’s count at the bottom!

I ran to the monster's side to soothe it and touched its arm. It jerked away at my touch and cried out in agony.

"No it's ok." I said soothingly. "I'm going to help you sit up." I knew it couldn’t understand me but I hoped it could read human emotions.

The tension released in its body, which caused its limbs to hit the table with a thud. It’s eyes, or rather eye holes cut into the box, softened. I gently gripped its arm and helped iit to an upright sit. It took a deep breath, then opened its mouth. I watched on with anticipation.

The door flung open. "Jesse! Are you gonna-." Pete's eyes went wide and he quickly slammed the door shut. "Dude. Do you know what this means?"

I smirked. "Yep."

Pete put his head in his hands. "Oh man, we finally died from alcohol poisoning and this is our brains trying to make sense of the last signals from our nervous system."

I grabbed Pete roughly and shook him. "Get a hold of yourself, man. We're alive. This is real."

"Oh,” Pete looked back up at me. “Well that is definitely cooler than dying!" He exclaimed. "Bro, we gotta get everyone in here and show them this."

"Woah, woah, woah, hold on. We need to go to the study room and talk. You know, so he can’t hear us talk about him." I motioned with my head to the monster then I pushed Pete out the door before I locked it behind me.

"What are you talking about, dude!" Pete yelled in the hallway.

“Shut the fuck up, man,” I whispered back and walked down the hall into another room. This one was similar in size to our dorm but only contained a couple of tables surrounded by chairs instead of the desks, dressers, and beds that our dorm contained.

I turned to Pete. "We cannot show anyone yet. Do you even remember the plan?" I scoffed. "We were supposed to teach it English and shit for, like, half a week!"

"Oh, yeah," Pete realized. "We really should've gotten started on this earlier."

"Yeah, but then we got drunk every night this week and then we had to catch up on all of our homework last night so we could drink all weekend. It was really an unavoidable situation when you think about it.”

"OK. I got an idea." Pete stared at me with uncertainty. "You're not gonna like it."

"What is it?"

"Well, we still need to use the monster to get into a party for free. So, what if we just do a cram session."

"You want us to cram… English… and social norms… into a thing that we don't even know is capable of consciousness?" I looked questioningly at Pete.

"Yes."

"Fuck it. Let's do it. I really wanna get into that party."

Pete pushed the door open and headed back to our room and I followed close behind. After opening the door to our room, he froze. I peered in behind him. The desks were there, the bunk beds were there, the dressers and closets were in order, and the table was in the middle of the room. Except nothing was on it besides empty shot glasses and the beer I had left on the table.

"It's gone," Pete breathed.

I pushed Pete into the room and closed the door behind me. "Oh no this is bad. This thing is gonna come back and tie me up and go on a rant about how I'm a bad dad with intentions to kill me."

Pete gave me a disgruntled look, "OK, first of all, it would do that to both of us at the same time. You know, ‘cause we built it together."

"I don't want to be a dad with you," I protested. “I want to be a single dad.”

Pete continued, "Second, I think that's the least of our worries. Isn't it gonna, like, hurt someone?"

"And we're gonna be liable. Fuck, dude, my parents can't pay for that shit," I started pacing. “I had to take out so many loans already!”

"Pay for it?,” Pete yelled. “Dude, we're going to jail!"

"That's even worse..." I trailed off as I spotted a thin trail of darker carpet leading to the door. "Wait!"

I crouched down and put my hands to the dark spot. It was wet, and a little bit sticky. When I bent down to smell the wet spot, it smelled exactly like rubbing alcohol. I recoiled and covered my nose. “Definitely vodka,” I strained to say when I had recovered.

Pete's eyes brightened. "It's leaking?"

"It's leaking. All we need to do is follow its trail," I confirmed, nose still covered.

"Ok, new plan. Grab beers, follow the trail, teach it everything it needs to know on our way to the party."

I was already putting beer cans into my backpack. An average student would need to take their school supplies out, but, due to my above average planning abilities, I’m always prepared for emergency drinking by keeping my bag empty when I’m not at class.

I swung the backpack around my back then Pete and I were out the door and following the trail of alcohol. It took us to one end of the building where we entered a dank stairwell. Some of the landings were covered with dryer lint, spilled soda, and vomit as we descended. The stairwell was cleaned daily, but college kids know how to create a mess in or on things that don’t belong to them pretty well. The trail took us all the way down to the basement, where it turned into a puddle.

I squatted over it, then turned to Pete. “It must have struggled with finding the door before leaving?” I thought out loud.

Pete promptly walked over to the door and opened it. “Must have. The trail continues outside.”

I stood up and we followed the trail outside into the black night. There was a heavy fog pressing down on us which made our visibility in the night even worse. We were forced to use flashlights to see the trail. The light was helpful but only let us see a couple of feet in front of us. Luckily, we knew the campus pretty well at this point so we knew our whereabouts throughout our hunt. It was easy to track the monster on the sidewalk and over roads and through alleys, but when he crossed patches of grass we had to guess if he went straight or took a turn. Eventually we figured out that the grass that was wet with alcohol would dimly shine back, but it was still easier to look around the edges of the patch to see where the path continued onwards.

After about a half hour of searching, the wet trail led up to another door. This door went inside another dorm that looked nearly identical to the one we left. They both had the same rectangular layout, old faded brick, cheap windows, and general disrepair due to neglect.

“Shit!” Pete exclaimed. “It probably went in there and killed someone!”

“Let’s not jump to conclusions,” I reassured Pete. “C’mon let’s just hang out until someone lets us in.”

So we did what college students do when their friend doesn’t let them into the dorm; we waited outside and acted casual, waiting for someone with access to enter or leave. We talked for a little while about random bull shit until Pete started to grow tense and his breathing increased.

Pete tapped his heel against the pavement repeatedly. “Man, we are so screwed. It definitely went in there. Maybe it spied on some girls.”

“I think you’re projecting too much,” I interjected.

“And then someone saw it and it got mad and it attacked that person,” Pete continued rambling, “and now we’re all gonna get burned at the stake. Or worse, we’re gonna have to take it out to a field and shoot it in the back of the head while we tell it how much we love it. I’m not mature enough for that!”

I sighed and rolled my eyes. “Stop talking like that. No one’s gonna let us in with you talking about spying on girls and shooting people in their heads!”

Pete took a series of short deep breaths. “You’re right. You’re totally right. I’m calm. I am zen.” He closed his eyes and took another longer deep breath. As he exhaled quickly, his eyes flew open and fixed on me. “I can’t calm down.”

I grabbed Pete’s arm. “Pete, look at me. Breath in, out. In, out.”

He started breathing to my cadence then shook his head. “Nope. Can’t do this. I need you to choke me out.”

“Are you insane?” I stepped away from him.

Pete grabbed my arm and pulled me behind him, wrapping my arm around his neck. “Just pull towards you,” He instructed me. “Until I stop breathing.”

I tried to pull away, but Pete had me gripped tightly. His nails were starting to dig into my forearm.

“Will you stop it!” I yelled. “I’m not gonna choke you.”

“Please. Please, choke me, daddy,” Pete begged. His eyes were closed and his breathing erratic from struggling with me.

At that instant the door swung open. The poor girl at the door saw my arm around my friend’s throat as he was asking me to choke him, pulling me close to him. This shocked Pete into loosening his grip and I was able to pull away and grab the door. I told her thanks, and as she walked away I could hear her laughing. I felt heat rise to my cheeks, but I pushed the feeling down and pulled Pete into the building behind me. I had more important things to worry about.

Following the path left by the monster took us two floors up the dimly lit and familiarly dirty stairwell and into a dorm wing similar to our own. It was similarly lit to the stairwell with a row of doors lining each side. Pete pointed to a door where the trail ended about a quarter of the way down the hallway. I could tell from the cheesy handmade decorations on the door that it led to one of the dorm rooms.

“It must be in there,” Pete breathed.

That may have been the last time either of us took a breath until we got to the door. I lifted my shaking hand to knock on the door three times. Each knock was inadvertently spaced out by a few seconds. Soon after, the door swung open, spilling the toxic fumes from vapes and Juuls into the hallway. I was surprised that the scene inside wasn’t one of gore and unspeakable violence.

We coughed due to the vapors, their smell was overwhelmingly sweet and thick, yet very familiar. The room behind the door was somehow even more dimly lit than the stairwell. The only source of light were string lights that hung around the edges of the ceiling. A couple of people were sitting on futons and there was a small table filled with cards and cups in front of them. At the door stood a white kid with dark hair who was about the same height as me.

“Aye, whatchyu want, bruh?” The kid at the door asked us.

I was caught off guard. Worse yet, I didn’t see the beast that we had tracked here. “Uh, the, uh,” I stammered, “the trail. It, it ended here…”

Pete nodded in agreement, as if somehow that made any sense to the doorman.

He continued his interrogation, “Man, what the fuck are you talking about? Who do you even know here?”

The last phrase snapped my focus back. It’s a question that I had heard plenty of times before. An inquiry from party throwers to determine if you’re cool enough to let in. It was an easy question to play off, but one of the first questions bouncers used.

I chuckled a little bit. “I think we got the wrong room. We were looking for our friend and he said he was in room...” I looked quickly at the number posted beside the door frame on a thin piece of plastic then snapped my eyes back to make eye contact, “...232.”

“Who’s your friend?” The doorman inspected us with a disgusted look on his face.

“I don’t know if he would have given you his name,” I stated. “But, he was supposed to be out in this costume made of, like, beer boxes and shit.” I chuckled.

“Oh shit! Y’all friends with Box Dude?” He extended his hand.

I grasped it, interlocking our thumbs and wrapping the rest of my fingers around the back of his hand as he did the same. “Yeah, man! But I don’t see him here at all?”

“Yeah, yeah. That dude was headed out to another party we told him about,” the doorman responded nonchalantly.

Pete nudged me. “Dude, there’s no trail leaving,” he whispered.

“Ok this might sound strange, but was he by any chance leaking?” I asked the doorman.

He smiled wide and laughed once. “Yeah, I guess he was spilling his drinks inside that suit of his. We patched him up just before he left. You guys wanna tag along with us? We were gonna head out after this round.”

I smiled back. “That’d be great.”

He stepped away from the door and allowed us in. I unslung my bag and took out two beer cans, handing one to Pete.

As we drank, the others continued the game they were playing. The doorman introduced himself and the others. His name was Johan, which is a pretty weird name for a white kid from the states. Nothing cliche about that. I don’t remember the name of the others. To be honest, I didn’t really care. After we finished our drinks we headed out to the party to find our new friend, Box Dude.

Johan and his friends took us off campus, across roads that were empty except for parked cars and other partygoers travelling in the quiet night. When we arrived at our destination I realized the building was familiar. I just couldn’t place the night that I had been here, though I was fairly certain it was for a party. It was a generic looking house; two stories in a relatively square shape. The bottom two windows showed dim blue lights on the inside. The light grayish siding was falling out in some places and when we got closer I noticed it was speckled with dirt.

Pete tugged on my backpack from behind, jolting me back a step. I spun towards him, heat rising to my face again but this time with fists clenched.

“Dude, this-” Pete began before I cut him off.

“Will you quit worrying man. Everything has been chill so far,” I spat at him quietly so the others wouldn’t hear. “We’re gonna go in there, bring the thing back to the dorm, and then get to the party.”

“Yeah, but-”

I cut Pete off again, “Knock it off man. It’s getting late. We gotta make it to that party.”

Johan was opening the door and leading the others in when I turned back around. I followed them inside with Pete at my heels. We walked single file into a room with couches set up around a tv. Through an entryway, we could see a room that had the utilities of a kitchen. At the back of the Kitchen, a table was set up with cups on either end and people stood behind them, ping pong balls in hand. I smiled. On any other night I would have loved playing beer pong in a place like this. But I had a more important goal tonight. The kitchen had the most people in it, while the room we were in only had guests slumped over on the couches.

I tapped Johan on the arm with the back of my hand. “Yo, we’re kinda in a rush. You mind asking your friends if they’ve seen ours?”

Johan nodded. “I got you man. No worries.” He walked off toward a group of guys standing around the pong table.

As I grabbed a beer out of my bag I continued to survey the rooms. I noticed I was getting stares from about half of the occupants.

“We don’t wanna stay long,” I told Pete, still looking around. “The people here know we don’t belong.”

Pete shook his head. “That’s not it man. We were here once before and-”

I didn’t hear the rest of what Pete was saying. A guy who was about a foot taller than me shoved me hard. I stumbled back, spilling the contents of my open can on the floor. I managed to stay on my feet and retain a little dignity at the same time.

I looked back at the assailant who yelled, “What the fuck do you think you’re doing here?”

My arms were up, bent at the elbows and wrists with my palms facing my attacker. “Yo, man! I’m just looking for my friend. I’ll be out of here as soon as we find them.”

“I told you that you aren’t allowed back here!” The tall guy shoved his finger into my chest.

“Back here?” I looked at him confused. My shoulders tensed as my brows crossed. “What the hell are you talking about? I’ve never even been here before!”

“Yeah, sure you haven’t, asshole.” He grabbed my shirt and pulled me towards him, pushing his face towards mine. “You don’t remember puking inside our freezer?”

I looked back at Pete. “That was this place?” I asked.

Pete nodded fervently.

“Oh shit.” I took in a deep breath and held it, turning back to my assailant.

The tall guy pushed me away, spilling my drink all over my shirt and jeans this time. “Get the hell out of here, piece of shit.”

I pulled myself together and looked at my shirt, scoffed, then sighed. I looked back at my assailant and my gaze softened. I was powerless in this situation. Even if the guy didn’t have the height advantage, or the strength advantage, or the advantage of fighting skills, or the advantage of confidence, he had a room full of people who would back him up.

“Ok,” I stated calmly and moved slowly for the door. “I’m heading out. Don’t worry,” I told him.

I turned towards the door, but halted when I heard a low, slurred voice, “Wait!”

I spun back around to see the party attendees now pushed along the edges of the Kitchen and in the middle where they once stood there was a set of empty alcohol containers and boxes stacked togethers. My eyes lit up with recognition, it was our alcohol monster!

It spoke in a labored way, a mix between a drunken slur and a non-experienced speaker. “They are my friends!” The voice came again.

“Well why didn’t you say so?” The tall guy smiled and clasped his arm around me causing me to jump. “I didn’t realize you guys know Box Dude! That other shit is in the past. We cool?”

I nodded nervously and licked my lips. “Yeah, we’re good,” I said meekly as I attempted a smile.

The tall guy led me over to the creation of mine and Pete’s. My heart was threatening to jump out of my chest. The lowest cut I had carved into the top box only a mere hours ago curved up at the edges, imitating a smile.

“Fathers,” Box Dude said, “we finally meet”

My mouth was dry as I stared at the monster. I thought of numerous things to say while my mouth remained still and gaping. I looked at Pete who beamed at me. I scowled as I remembered how he wanted to be dads together.

Pete broke the silence. He spoke rapidly, “We need to get you out of here and feed you a dictionary.”

Pete’s stupidity brought me back to my senses. I shot him a look before I turned my attention back to the monster. It made a deep, muffled, throaty sound. I think it was trying to laugh?

“What’s a dictionary?” Box Dude said in its slurred, malformed english. It pulled a red solo cup up to its mouth. I wondered if the contents of the cup fell into something that resembled a stomach inside the box that stood in for a torso. We had never designed any internal organs so that seemed far fetched.

Pete began, “It’s a book full of words and stuff and-”

I cut in before anyone or anything could say something else. “Look. The plan was to get you to learn some things and then use you to get into a party. But when we came back to our room, you were gone. It looks like you did a good job on the learning part all on your own. Well, you did good enough. You’re our ticket into that party, so what do you say we head over there?”

Pete nodded excitedly. The monster mulled over the proposition.

“Is there more alcohol?” Box Dude asked.

“Yes, but it costs money…” I replied with little confidence. “But they’re probably going to waive the door fee because you look so cool!”

“Money… Yeah…” Box Dude worked the idea over. “Someone told me about getting items with little bits of paper.” The monster shrugged. “Sounds like that blows, man.”

“Please, dude?” Pete begged. “We’ve been planning this for a week.”

Box Dude got that puzzled-like look on its face again. It slowly replied, “All right. But you have to beat me at beer pong.”

I smiled. I had been playing beer pong for the last year-and-a-half. Box Dude had been alive for one night and he didn’t have real eyes or arms.

I sneered, “That’s it? Easy!”

We walked over to the table in the back of the room, the tall guy who attacked me joining Box Dude on the other side of the table. It was probably because of Box Dude or maybe to cheer against me that we had a crowd around us. Twelve cups were already set up on either end of the table in the shape of a pyramid.

As is required in Regulation Beer Pong (the only kind of Beer Pong that I play), we started with a rule called “Eye to Eye” or simply “Eyes”. Box Dude and I stood on either side of the table, ping pong balls in hand. I stared into the circles at the top of his head and I assume Box Dude stared back. Without breaking eye contact, we tossed the balls at the same time. Box Dude’s ball landed in the front right cup immediately, while mine bounced off the rim of one instead. I scowled knowing they got to go first.

I whispered to Pete, “Beginner’s luck. No big deal.”

On their first turn, Box Dude and my aggressor hit two of the back cups. That means Balls Back. Pete and I were forced to send the balls back across the table for our opponents to shoot again. We removed the cups that they had sunk shots into. Next, they hit the middle cup and the cup just to the right. Balls back. They hit the front left and front right. Balls back. Box Dude called “Island”, and sank the front cup, which was now isolated. This meant we had to remove two cups for him this time. His teammate added on by sending another ball into the back right cup. Balls back. Now they were on their last cup. As Box Dude threw again, I held my breath until the ball bounced off the table left of the cup. I sighed in relief as his teammate threw and missed as well.

The room was silent as I turned to Pete. “We have trained countless hours for this. While others were studying or going to class, we were playing Pong. While others were finishing projects late at night, we were drinking until the early hours of the morning. This is our time to shine.”

Pete smiled. “Let’s get ‘em! Our college careers come down to this!”

I squared my shoulders with the table, closed my eyes and took a deep breath. As I opened my eyes, I released the ball. It felt like minutes dragged by as I let the muscle memory from countless hours guide me. The ball seemed to float in the air as it soared towards the opposite end of the table. When it did arrive, the ball hit the table in front of the front cup and bounced back before rolling off the table.

I fell to my knees and screamed, “Fuck! It’s all over!”

Pete put a hand on my shoulder. “It’s not over yet. They can still miss.” He turned and threw his ball. It sank in the front right cup.

I stayed on the floor as both of our opponents missed their next shots. We continued on, Pete and I would hit a cup here and there as Box Dude’s team missed their last. Several turns later, we were also down to our last cup. I missed my shot and scoffed, but Pete followed up by making his. Tension filled the air and I could barely force down a breath. If our opponents didn’t make this cup in their next shot we would win. The room was quiet as Box Dude’s teammate threw his ball and it sailed over the table. Box Dude looked me in the eyes and I caught what I thought was a smirk on his face for a moment before he threw the ball far off to the right and it bounced off of the floor. Pete and I hugged each other and jumped up and down.

As the party returned to its normal volume, Pete, Box Dude, and I silently left the party. We walked out into the night and invited the air of opportunity that fell between us. We were ready to take on whatever the night had in store.

We got into the Frat party for free, just as we had planned. But honestly it was pretty boring. We didn’t know anyone there. Box Dude ditched us about five minutes after we arrived and we’ve never seen him since. Sometimes though, on Saturday nights I’ll hear whispers of a man in cardboard boxes drinking parties dry. In those moments I know that Box Dude is somewhere out there stealing alcohol and seeking revenge. In Beer Pong.