The situation appears desperate. The engineers have been living under siege in CIEMAS for weeks, and have run out of vending machine snacks and turkey-bacon-avocado sandwiches from Twinnie’s. Additionally, DSG's P-Frosh army has effectively cut off all delivery options, somehow making the Merchants-On-Points service even worse than before. The Pratt Stars face the approaching deadline of starvation like any other deadline: with great courage, resolve and creativity; they make dank memes to feed upon.
Engineering Student Government has decided to turn to its allies in the Computer Science department to launch a final last-ditch effort; a Hackathon. The target of this Hackathon is very specific, the College Board. Within a few hours, the thousands of P-Frosh encamped outside CIEMAS begin to receive intriguing emails. They are notified that they have all been accepted to Harvard, Stanford, Princeton, Yale and Columbia—with scholarships. The army immediately disbands and goes home to celebrate (after posting on Facebook, as is tradition). Seizing their advantage, the engineers march towards the Chapel and begin a siege of their own, demanding the installation of Anniekin Liewatcher as the rightful president of DSG.
The tide has turned on DSG and Queen Ban-all, can she find a way to cheat defeat this time around?
Meanwhile, the war on Central Campus between Kappa Alfalfa Order and the Brotherhood of Snew has been raging for days, and has proven to be a greater nuisance than a Court of Mires party on a Tuesday night. The sororities are angered by the bloodshed and its disruption to the liquor and narcotics trade. Triangle-Triangle-Triangle and the Pie-Flies have had quite enough, and are determined to end the conflict. Upon hearing rumors of a desire to end the hostilities, the Association of Degenerate Privilege (previously known as the League of BMW Enthusiasts) decides to use the opportunity to its advantage. The Association reaches out to Triangle-Triangle-Triangle and the Pie-Flies in order to organize a peace summit at its off-campus compound. The three organizations plan a mixer of unprecedented scale, with only themselves, Snew, Kappa Alfalfa and the A-squads of top sororities invited.
The groups arrive at the holy Compound, and the scene blows away everything witnessed before at Duke. The Association has hired The Killers, as well as an authentic hick-band. The atmosphere is tense, few people drink the juice of the jungle and most attendees remain with their Chapters. The music gets quiet, and the CEO of the Association of Degenerate Privilege ascends the stage to address the crowds.
“Guests! Welcome! It is my privilege to be able to host all of you here today at our Estate. While I anticipate the revelry to cause nearly everyone here to blackout, I beg you all to remember only one thing; the reason we have gathered here. Conflict is bad, it is much better to act harmoniously with one another. We’ll put this mess behind us, and work together to create a New Order here at Duke. Nobody should fear exclusion. We are all members of the Greek Community, and should treat one another as brethren. So feast, enjoy! Try our juice of the jungle recipe, it is the beverage of such social kings and queens as yourselves. Only the finest Aristocrat went into it.”
After receiving great applause and cheers, the CEO leaves the stage and is promptly replaced by The Killers, who proceed to play “Mr. Brightside” on a loop for the next hour and a half. The revelry and debauchery which follows puts Shooters to shame. The music can be heard as far away as the Durham Bulls Athletic Park, and the only reason that the police do not break it up was because all of the officers are on the payroll of the Association (or rather, on the payroll of the parents of Association members). Gallon upon gallon of the juice and other assorted liquors are consumed. Enough cigs is smoked to create a haze over the warring campus which lasted a week. The Coke Peak nearly eclipses the McClendon Tower, and the beer-can swords are as abundant as the Duke squirrels.
Curiously, all of the Association’s members appear to have left their holy site before 4:00 a.m., an unusual move. However, nobody seems to have noticed them slip out, just as nobody noticed that they chose to count their drinks and follow them with healthy doses of water, a rare move considering their intense Greek-ness.
It’s now 4:20 a.m. in the morning. Suddenly, the air conditioning clicks off. The band stops playing, and the holy Compound become silent. The Greeks cease their dancing and carousing, and look around in dazed state resembling that of freshmen entering Marketplace for the first time. The band then begins to play a gothic cover of Semisonic's “Closing Time.” The song induces panic in the befuddled crowd. The party-goers begin to pass out en masse. It’s a trap!
While the cause of the effects of the juice of the jungle combined with the intensifying levels of evaporating sweat may never be known, the outcome of the Red Mixer will never be forgotten. The Association uses its lackeys in the Durham Police Department and Duke’s relatively-recent “group amnesty” policy to send help for the passed-out Greeks. The police and EMS spend hours moving the victims to the nearest hospital, where further tips from the Association led to them all being arrested by Alcohol Law Enforcement. The Association of Degenerate Privilege’s master plan to become a ruling fraternity atop the warring campus is a resounding success, but leaves much power to be had by other factions in this testing time.
This is the fifth installment of The Pledgemaesters.
Get The Chronicle straight to your inbox
Signup for our weekly newsletter. Cancel at any time.