“And I guess my fun fact is that I’ve been to San Francisco.”
Ohhhs and Ahhhs ripped through the circle, which was more of a nervous oval, much like the climax of a mediocre firework show. Nobody really enjoyed it, both towards the fireworks and the dreaded icebreaker. A moment of awkward silence struck, the exact problem the “Name, Year, Major, Fun Fact” game was supposed to prevent, But, much like Donald Trump running for president, it was an unfortunate inevitability. Next on the ice chopping block was Kevin McFadden. A sophomore Economics major who owned two dogs. This should be easy for him; just say that last sentence and include your name. Boom. Ice broken. There was however a small hold up. The first meeting of the University of South Dakota’s Civil Rights club was always awkward.
“Hi, my name is Kevin. I’m a sophomore economics major. And my fun fact is…”
He paused to think. All he had to say was two dogs. But, the same thought ran across his mind like two dogs running on two separate, but equal, treadmills. “Don’t say murdered a man. Don’t say murdered a man.”
It was true. Kevin had murdered a man over the summer. While that was not fun, it was most definitely a fact. It wasn’t a murder of passion or emotion. It was a simple mistake. You see, Kevin’s family had gone on a vacation and forgotten him at home. At first, this was pretty rad for Kevin. He ordered a huge cheese pizza, played videogames, and even watched the movie “Home Alone” on VHS. But, the trouble started brewing once a robber decided to, well, burgle his home. Kevin knew his two dogs would be useless, as they were tired from their treadmill run, so he began to set comical physically based traps.
He rigged his upstairs door to a bucket of marbles and oil, and connect it to his mom’s weights at the end of the stairs. Once the robber opened Kevin’s door, he slipped on the now rolling marbles and slid down the oil slicked stairs. This is where the trouble began. Here, the robber fell on his back, fracturing his neck, causing him to be paralyzed. Now, this weight, which was supposed to bonk his head, leaving a bump and tiny birdies, was rapidly converting potential energy into kinetic energy, right into the unmovable victim’s jugular. It would be a little graphic for me to describe what actually happened, but if you ever popped the head of a dandelion, and then dipped it in ketchup, you’ve wasted ketchup, but have a pretty good idea of what happened.
Did Kevin go to jail for this? No. It turns out this robber, who looked an awful lot like Joe Pesci, was luckily a child predator, a statement which has genuinely never been said. Ever. So, his beheading was seen as a public service, a guillotine to the red tape. Kevin was never given charges, only a single therapy session and new marbles that weren’t covered in child molester.
So, we return to a now moist Kevin, the focus of the oval (Not mathematically, of course). He repeated himself, “…and my fun fact is that over the summer, I killed two dogs.”
Kevin had mixed up his fun facts. It wasn’t innocent, like saying you have a sister instead of a brother or actually played a decent amount of minutes in varsity soccer. Kevin had just wrongfully admitted he had killed a dog, which even the most lonely cat person would care about more than a pedophile. And now, Kevin couldn’t back track. He can’t just say, “Oops, I meant to say I killed a man. No harm, no foul, am I right?” Out of the frying pan, and into the fire. Kevin had now entered panic mode.
“Oh, no. I meant to say I own a man.”
Oh boy. Kevin, just put your hands on your face, open your mouth, and hope you look like the movie poster because you just killed the pooch, figuratively not literally, as much as Kevin had incidentally implied. You told the civil rights group that you own a man, during the icebreaker of your first meeting. It would be like going to the feminist club low-cal frozen yogurt social, and telling them that you think women are objects, after pretending you murdered not one, but two dogs. Good luck with all those short hared ladies, or men, not to be heteronormative.
Once Kevin falsely admitted to basically being a dog killing Klan member, he straight up fainted, but not before peeing a little bit in his pants. There, lying passed out in a puddle of his piss, surrounded by a group of disgusted people, Kevin had never been more like Macaulay Culkin since he had been left “Home Alone.”
-James Wagner, Staff Member