Shortly after Amaya had sent me packing for wielding a domineering dong, I decided to initiate a moratorium on sex and resolved to focus more upon my college studies. I implemented a monotonous study schedule at the fraternity house and avoided many of the social events that took place over a period of several weeks, effectively becoming a hermit. In attempts to reinvigorate me, Camel stopped by my bedroom one night while I was digesting a required reading article for one of my courses.

“Why you studying all the time, Keaton?” my alcoholic friend asked me as he intruded into my room.

“I don’t know,” I replied, looking up from my reading material. “Call me crazy but there’s something about paying thirty thousand dollars a year in tuition that keeps me motivated to earn credits. You know, getting a degree and all that shit. I figured that I should get something in return for my money instead of just a hangover.”

“Fuck that, man,” Camel said, closing my bedroom door behind him. “This is the time in your life when you’re supposed to be having fun.”

I gave Camel a probing look. “Yeah?” I asked. “Why can’t you have fun later? Like, after you graduate and get a job?”

“Everyone’s gonna get a job, man,” Camel said. He wandered over to my desk, sat down on the spare chair, and propped up his feet on the tabletop. “You worried about not getting a job or something?”

“I just don’t like school, dude,” I replied. “I want to get this shit over with as soon as possible.”

Camel pulled his hands behind his head and leaned back in the chair. “I wish I was more like you,” he stated. “I just don’t care that much about anything.”

“Yeah, I noticed,” I commented. I gave Camel a laugh and then demonstrated some nonverbal communication that I was more interested in returning to my required reading than socializing with him at that particular moment.

“So why you gotta bullshit me?” Camel suddenly accused.

“What are you talking about?” I asked.

“You don’t give a fuck about school no more than I do,” Camel asserted. “You’re just bummed out because that slant box girl dumped you.”

I sighed and reflected upon my memories of eating out Amaya’s delectable cooter. “She was the finest piece of ass that I ever had,” I stated in disappointment. “I don’t think I’ll get poontang as choice as her snatch ever again. Muff like that just doesn’t come along that often.”

“Fuck that, dude. How many times did you see her—like twice? I wouldn’t really count that as a girlfriend. That was pretty cold of her to diss you for having a big dick, though. You should have shot her yellow ass with my pellet gun when you had the chance.”

I contemplated over Camel’s words while nodding my head in agreement.

Camel stood up and stepped away from the table. “Well, hey, man, I’m gonna head out to the bars. I need to get drunk. Wanna come?”

“Dude, I need to get this shit read by tomorrow!”

“Come on, man, you’ll have plenty of time to read that garbage when we get back.”

“It’s already eight o’clock,” I pointed out.

“Come on,” he continued. “I can’t get drunk unless I have my designated driver with me.”

“Can’t you find another DD this time?”

“I’ll make it up to you,” Camel cajoled. “I know where this nice strip club is. There’s hot bitches in there—not the usual crack head hos. These chicks are college girls. I’ll buy you a lap dance or something and make you forget all about that Amaya bitch.”

“You know just how to cheer a brother up, don’t you?” I said, as I closed the binder that I was reading from and stood up from my study carrel. “I think I might be able to find some time to chauffeur your ass across town for the evening in exchange for some free titties. I’ll do anything for titties, you know. You don’t have to twist my arm.”

“Good,” Camel said. “I’m have to meet one of my old drinking buddies at the bar. His name is Killer. He owes me some money for some dank that I sold him awhile back. I think you’ll like him.”

Several minutes later, I was behind the wheel of Camel’s car, driving him to the local Arby’s for some quick dinner so that he wouldn’t end up drinking on an empty stomach. I pulled into the Arby’s drive-thru and was greeted by a lanky, pimple-faced teenager at the window. “What can I get for you, sir?” the youth asked.

Camel leaned over me from the passenger seat and said, “Yeah, give me one of your, uh, Grilled Chicken Bacon and Swiss Sandwiches.”

“Would you like a combo meal?”

Camel shook his head. “Nah, just give me the sandwich.”

“It will be right out.”

The adolescent employee closed the sliding window and disappeared inside the restaurant. While we were waiting for the sandwich, Camel shared with me some of the wisdom that he had acquired from being an undergraduate for six years. “You know, I think you’re better off without that Amaya hooker. Girls are nothing but a waste of time, man.”

“I don’t find anything wasteful about squirting my load inside some pussy,” I countered. “Unless some of my man mayonnaise dribbles out from a cream pie or something.”

“I’m not talking about sex, dude. I’m talking about all that relationship shit that you have to put up with in order to get laid on a regular basis.