Stanford Chaparral

Frat Boy 1: Yo bro, are you gonna bang that hot freshman chick, Monica, tonight.

Frat Boy 2: Bro, I’m gonna try. Gettin her drunk might help.

Frat Boy 1: Bro, I’ve got one word for you. Ruffee, man. It never fails.

Frat Boy 2: You mean rufee.

Frat Boy 2: No man, I mean Ruff-ee. Like the sound a dog makes. You know, like Dennis the Menace’s dog, Ruff.

Frat Boy 2: I’ve never heard of that.

Frat Boy 1: Dude they’re the best. There just like rufees, only they are Pluto-shaped popsicles. They have mad flava. Specifically cherry, purple, and banana bonanza.

Frat Boy 2: So what, do you just get her to lick it, like a popsicle.

Frat Boy 1: No you flavorless fool. I said it was just like a rufee. You drop it in her beer bro.

Frat Boy 2: Oh I see. But won’t she notice the popsicle stick coming out of the cup.

Frat Boy 1: Bro, they’re chicks. They’re stupid.

Frat Boy 2: Oh yeah. So then she just loses control huh? And you take her to her room and nail her.

Frat Boy 1: No man. You’re not listening to me. Ruffff-eeees. It turns her into an animal.

Frat Boy 2: So it makes her hella horny then. Sweet.

Frat Boy 1: NO. It makes her hella doggy. You know slobbering on your clothes. Playing fetch. Putting her tail down and hiding in the corner when you raise your voice. That’s when you give it to her.

Frat Boy 2: Ohhh yeah. Give her the dillz.

Frat Boy 1: No bro, her favorite chew toy, a squeaking duck or a tattered bear or something, while patting her on the head in a comforting manner.

Frat Boy 2: Oh. Nice.

. . .

Girl 1: I don’t really know what happened last night.

Girl 2: Uggh. I know what happened. You ruined my evening. You were so out of control, I had to keep you on a leash all night.

Girl 1: Oh Monica, I’m sorry. How did that happen?

Girl 2: Uggh, whatever. I don’t know how much you had to drink, but one minute you were fine, then the next thing I knew you were up on the table lapping up the punch right out of the bowl.

Girl 1: Ohmigod. No way.

Girl 2: Yes way. It wasn’t sanitary. And every time, I took my eyes off you, you were on all fours sniffing every crotch in the room. Then you turned around three times and went to sleep on a cushion. When I tried to wake you up, you snapped at me.

Girl 1: Oh my gawd, I totally got Ruff-eed.

Girl 2: What-Ever. And the worst part is that you were humping my date’s leg all night, only to have him desperately shake you off, only to have you jump right back on.

Girl 1: No, I swear. It was that beer Billy gave me. I knew that was a popsicle stick. But he told me it was a straw. And I believed him. That must be why it tasted like there was a purple party in my mouth and all the berries from A to Z were invited.

Girl 2: Oh my gawd Trish. Do NOT look at me with that sad puppy dog face. You are SUCH a bitch.

Girl 1: I can’t help it!