With the new business frat Alpha Kappa Psi on campus, my team and I decided it was absolutely imperative that we investigate their inner workings. There was a case to chase.
To learn their most elusive hazing rituals, we stuffed a fiery student journalist into a pair of spiffy boat shoes and tight slacks that defined his brawny calves. As a final touch, we made sure his polo was tucked all the way in. That thing was pressed to his skin like a new-born babe. Our journalist had been transformed into a willing pledge.
The following is a testament of our journalist’s findings:
There had been talk about what hazing looks like at a business frat. Suggestions range from activities as tame as a keg stand, to as disturbing as the “elephant walk”. I feared the worst.
My fellow pledges and I were ordered to the Joyce Cummings Center lobby, blindfolded, and led into a lecture hall. We were handed what felt like a shot glass. I prayed a silent invocation to God as I knew when it came down to it, I could do alcohol.
That’s when the warm sensation beneath the glass and the unrecognizable stench alarmed my senses. I could feel my fellow pledges shift around me, beginning to come to terms with the reality that this was not going to be Pink Whitney.
As I thought to bring the shot glass to my nose, perhaps to help my brain recognize the substance, the pledgucator piped up.
“Alright everyone, welcome to the most important ceremony in your pursuit for corporate achievement.” His voice was mature, almost recognizable.
“In your hands you hold the nectar of the gods. Mortals know it as Breast Milk. This nutrient packed liquid is more than just a sweet treat, this is the ultimate symbol of success and venture capital. This shot of ambrosia will grant you access to the similarly high-powered world of business. It is also organic.”
He paused, allowing us to come to grips with the situation, and perhaps appreciate his mindful grocery shopping habits. In a soft voice he continued, “Now, sip it slowly.”
Following the command we were all bid, the slow sipping began. I felt the creamy liquid coat my throat and the bitter taste overwhelm my senses.
The pledge beside me spit out his first sip, and I heard the unrecognizable sound of an assault weapon making contact with its target.
I took a second sip, braver this time. I could practically feel the urge to network and spit on SMFAers grow in my heart. The words, “I’m not a Business major, I’m an Econ major” formed in the back of my throat.
This straight-from-the-source liquid felt powerful.
My last swig was my biggest, and I felt compelled to open my eyes.
Mr. Wonderful.
Mr. Wonderful stood in front of me, glowing almost too bright for me to comprehend. My brothers around me trembled and gasped. The #1 baldest investor of Shark Tank fame stood in front of us and began,
“Brothers. Welcome to the world of corporate success. I hope you will use this gift wisely.”
As I listened raptly, my eyes dragged down his body and I noticed two little damp spots on his chest. It struck me. This breast milk was from the teet of Mistah himself.
Wonderful vanished as quickly as he had appeared. The room’s energy softened, his warm light no longer illuminating the grey walls. I had become a humble follower, granted the gift of a warm substance that was nothing but a conduit for a power I was not ready to wield.
But by God would I be forced to wield it.
