My Prospie

**WARNING: THIS POST CONTAINS MORE THAN 400 WORDS.**

Bummer,
I’m on probation until at least the end of the year. Security says that I’ve accumulated more noise complaints (along with a couple of alcohol violations) than the rest of the campus combined. Its not that I’m unruly; my living habits are far from disruptive. It’s just that the local house fellows are far less tolerant than one would expect of professors at a liberal arts college.

I signed up to be a host of one of the focus students this weekend. I registered early, arrived promptly and assumed all would go smoothly. After all, I’m a decent student, fairly relaxed and also pretty outgoing; I’d make a good host; I am a great, positive, glowing person. After the sign in and the pizza dinner with hosts and focus kids, the pairing process began. The hosts’ names would be called, in alphabetical order, and they would proceed out the door with their new soon to be friend. It was exciting; a chance to share with another all that I had learned in the past year; a chance for someone to adore me; a drinking buddy at the very least. Adams, Bryant, Clifton, my heart began to pound. Houston, I grit my teeth and clenched my hands. Martin, my eyes rolled back, my subconscious screaming with desire. Peters… my heart dropped.

“There must be some mistake,” I thought. “Maybe my prospie isn’t here yet. Perhaps they’re just saving the best for last.” The pairings finished. I remained entirely alone with 4 other unpaired hosts (a hobo, a junkie, a dwarf and a giraffe) a few stragglers, and the staff of the event. The smoke cleared. With a flushed face and a soul hungry for fiery vengeance, I raced up to the administrative table slammed both fists on the table, and screamed “Liars, filthy blood-sucking vagrants. Where is my friend?” Four overseers smirked down at me. The first three cackled out bellows of laughs. The forth leaned forward and spat.

… I was waitlisted… I was belittled, embarrassed, humiliated. Tears ran down my cheek. I fainted, awoken several hours later in the center of the quad by frolicking of a caliber of which I have never seen before; host and child rejoicing as one. Harmony wisped in the air. The dog was a happy mask. But I, your intrepid protagonist, sat lonely in the corner, taken aback by sadness I wandered in the shadows. The dog barked longingly and no one responded.

It occurred to me the next day that the man had probably screwed me over. I was placed on the waiting list because of my probation. It has to be. Black listed, stricken from community service at my very college. I could have handled ‘400 BABIES!’ but they wouldn’t even give me one. The kibble bowl was empty.

With love,
Barky (aka white chocolate)
Happy 4/20