Frat Party Garbage

Sat, 02 Jul 2016 00:00:00 +0000

The frat house was already alive with music and people who were pouring in and out of the door looking like so many ants. Dusty clenched the six pack he was holding until the edges of the cardboard dug into his soft palms and made rough indentations in the delicate skin. He wasn’t ready for this. There was no way he was going to survive. All he could do was look at the swarm of college-age guys with their swollen biceps and dark stubble on their chins and think to himself, ‘oh dear god they are all going to kill me’.

Dangle on Gromet's Plaza Archive

Frat Party Garbage