Week 14 Storytelling: Witchy Woman

Gruntilda finally had some peace and quiet since she moved away from the hubbub of the city, but all of that changed.  You see, Gruntilda was getting up in years, so she decided that it would be best for her health to move to the seclusion and fresh air of the forest.  She had saved her money over the years and used it to contract Wonka Sweets Construction to build the house of her dreams, a home completely made of candy that she had wanted since her youth.  The house was lovely:  wrought black licorice fence, graham cracker siding outlined with pure white icing, and peppermint shingles on the roof.

Candy House.  Web source

Gruntilda loved her new setup, it was everything a retired witch could want.  As she sat in her candy cane rocking chair reading over some old spells sipping her brew, a small noise made its way to Gruntilda's ears.  Nibble, nibble, nibble.   She tried to ignore the noise and continue reading but it wouldn't go away.  Nibble, nibble, nibble.  Too distracted to keep reading, Gruntilda looked high and low for the source.  Giving up, she went to return to her book when all of a sudden, the sugar glass window was smashed and the chocolate windowsill ripped off by two pudgy hands.

Rushing to the window, she found a fat little girl with chocolate smeared all over.  Another crash came from the peanut brittle porch and the roof was gone, and laying among the peanut wreckage was an obese little boy.  Gruntilda broke down and began to weep, her poor dream house had been wrecked by these two unhealthy children.  With anger in her old witch's heart, she spryly grabbed the two immobile children and threw them in her big cooking pot.  She grabbed some potatoes, carrots, celery, and made a nice child stew.

Author's Note:  For this storytelling, I retold the story of Hansel and Grethel from the witch's perspective and made her the protagonist.  I added back story and a reason for why she would be randomly in the middle of the woods.  I also made Hansel and Grethel chubby and inconsiderate because who would eat somebody's house instead of knocking on the door and asking for food.  I decided to end the story with the kids getting eaten, because why not?

Bibliography:  Household Tales by Jacob Grimm and Wilhelm Grimm by Margaret Hunt (1884). Web Source

Storytelling for Week 13: Naked and Afraid

Winter had hit our forest home in full force so my buddy, Choo Choo, and I had nowhere to stay.  You see, we are fairies and as everyone knows fairies live outside in the buff.  Normally, we live outside through the winter season because it is usually not cold in our neck of the woods.  We tried our best to find somewhere warm but to no avail.  Since we both had no clothes, we also decided it would not be a good idea to snuggle up for warmth.  We tried to find shelter at Mr. Squirrel's house, but his house was completely filled with nuts and he had no room for us.  We also tried Mr. Bear's house but he snored too loud while he was hibernating so we couldn't stay there.  After asking all of our woodland friends for help but getting none, we decided to head to the humans' town to find shelter. 

However, we had just as much luck among the townsfolk as we did among the forest creatures.  The big people’s dogs would scare us off or we couldn’t get into their houses since they were sealed up tight.  Finally as night hit its coldest point, we found an old, rundown cobbler’s home so we decided to camp out in there.  It was shabby compared to the other houses but we didn’t care, it was somewhere that was out of the cold.  We hid and slept during the day so we wouldn’t run into the humans that lived there, an old man and his wife.

One night as we woke up from our daytime sleep, we saw a small bit of leather set out for the cobbler to a pair of shoes.  At first we were going to steal the leather and make some clothes for ourselves, but unfortunately there wasn’t enough leather for two sets of clothes.  With so much free time on our hands, we decided to go ahead and just finish the old man’s shoes for him.

The next night, two sets of leather were laid out but we still didn’t have enough to steal, so we finished the shoes again.  The night after that, four sets of leather were laid out and we had enough, but deciding that the cobbler and his wife were almost as bad off as us, we decided not to steal their materials.

For weeks this continued on, Choo Choo and I would make shoes from the ever increasing amount of leather, and they would always have it cut out.  We decided it was time for us to move on so that night we made ready to snag some leather and hit the road, but luck would have it that we saw the old people watching us from behind a terrible hiding place so we couldn’t make our move.  We finished up the shoes and called it a night.  

The next night, the old people were at it again, watching us from their hiding spot but then we realized there was no leather for us to work with, but instead tiny suits all made of leather.  Now that we had our clothes, we made off back to our woodland home, warm and chaffed in our leather.

Jimmy Fallon as the Leatherman, WebSource

Author’s Note:  For this storytelling, I used The Elves from the Brothers Grimm unit.  I decided to tell the story from the perspective of the elves.  I was also watching old Jimmy Fallon highlights on SNL when I came across The Leatherman, so I used that as a base for my elf characters.  I also made the elves have a motive for making the shoes instead of them just showing up and finishing them.

Bibliography:  The Grimm Brothers' Children's and Household Tales by D.L. Ashliman (1998-2013). Web Source

Storytelling for Week 12: Fighting the Dragon

And so we waited anxiously outside the terrible creature's den, peering through the dark at the terrible dragon's den.  Our leader, Beowulf, a man who's stature, bravery, and fury rivaled that of the beast, drew us near.

"I am at the end of the years and wish to test my mettle one last time.  Help me if I fall, but leave this dragon to me," he fearlessly said.

I stood at the edge of the soon to be battlefield, waiting to see what would come of this meeting of titans.  Beowulf roared out into the night, issuing a challenge to the beast that lurked in the dark of its cave.  Out of fear, our comrades fled, leaving only myself to stand guard in case our leader was bested.  The night was silent as we waited for the challenge to be met, all sounds muffled by the freshly fallen snow and no sounds came from the sleeping woods.

While our Beowulf's roar cut through the quiet, the response that came rumbled the ground, shaking everything near to its core.  From its den, a monstrous black dragon sprung from its hiding, its eyes flashing green and flames seeping from its maw.  The dragon quickly spewed flames at its combatant, who rolled to safety albeit being slightly singed.  To avoid getting cooked from afar, our leader rushed in close and worked the dragon's body over with slashes from his sword, only to find nothing could pierce its black carapace.  Realizing that he could not overpower the beast, Beowulf darted around the massive body of the slower combatant, hoping to find a vital spot unprotected by those impenetrable scales. 

Black Dragon.  Web Source

This kept up for what seemed like forever, neither opponent giving an inch or taking one.  However, Beowulf's age had begun to show.  His breath became ragged and his arms weighed down by fatigue.  As it seemed like the momentum had shifted in the dragon's favor, I took my queue and entered the fray with a yell.  As Beowulf turned, glad to see me join in battle, the dragon used his distraction and smashed him with his large tail.  Rage welled up inside me to see such a fell blow on my comrade.  With a surge of inhuman strength and speed I rushed to the dragon and drove my sword through his eye deep into his head, killing the beast instantly.

I rushed to where Beowulf was flung and held his dying body in my hands.  He looked at me and smiled, his eyes slowly glazing over.

"I leave this all in good hands," he said in his final breath, his soul leaving this earthly plane.  And with that, the great warrior Beowulf was no more.

Author's Note: For this storytelling, I used parts of Battle with the Dragon and The End of Beowulf from the Beowulf Unit.  I told this story from the perspective of Wiglaf, Beowulf's favorite earl.  I left everything other than Beowulf unnamed because I plan on further adapting this for my storybook so I figured I would knock out two birds with one stone here.  The story starts with Beowulf and company hunting down a dragon who rampaged on their village, burning down buildings.  For the most part I left the bulk of my version the same as the original.  Where things change is when Wiglaf joins the battle.  Originally, the two fight against the dragon until Beowulf is struck and Wiglaf finishes off the dragon.  I wanted to add a bit more depth so Wiglaf was partially responsible for Beowulf's death.   There is also a drawn out conversation between Beowulf and Wiglaf but I decided to cut that out.

Bibliography: The Story of Beowulf by Strafford Riggs (1933).  Web Source: Beowulf

Storytelling for Week 11: The Passing of Hugh

Charlie Sheen proved with his wild antics and large paycheck that he was worthy of entering the Playboy Mansion.  However, Charlie decided to bring along with him a date, Crystal, to one of the Mansion's parties.  When Hugh Hefner saw Crystal, he instantly fell in love with her and always wanted to be with her, for she was an extremely beautiful woman who was young enough to be his great granddaughter.

Crystal laughed at Hugh in secret due to his decrepit body that was probably ravaged by STD's but decided to use him to eventually gain his fortune when he died.  Hugh knew that Crystal was after his fortune but he could not resist her charms and the fact that she was attractive.  They eventually got married and she was listed as the recipient of his estate once he died.

Hugh Hefner.  Web Source: EOnline

Hugh and Crystal traveled all around the world, sightseeing and indulging in all the luxuries that only great wealth could afford.  Crystal, however, began to tire of Hugh's company and regretted ever marrying him for his money.

Finally, the two ended back in the States and returned to the the Playboy Mansion.  One day, Hugh showed Crystal his brand new tanning bed he bought so he could look nice and leathery for swimsuit season so he could go to the beach.  Summoning all her wits, Crystal told Hugh that he should get in the tanning bed and take a nap, and when it was time for him to get out she would let him know.  When he hopped in and fell quickly into a deep sleep like most elderly people do, she cranked up the heat setting and made sure he couldn't get out. 

After his death Crystal was filled with joy, because she inherited his fortune and no longer had to be around that horny old man.

Author's Note:  For this storytelling, I used The Passing of Merlin from the King Arthur unit.  I decided to tell the story about Hugh Hefner because in the original, Merlin is kind of a horny old man who falls head over heels for a woman named Vivien, who was using Merlin to learn all of his magic.  I found Hugh to be similar to Merlin in this situation so I used him and I looked up his current wife, Crystal, to use in place of Vivien.  Merlin and Vivien travel many places and eventually return home, where he shows her a rock where he says there are many marvelous things underneath.  Vivien asks him to go underneath to show her, and when he goes in she buries him alive and leaves happy, since she learned everything that he knew.

Bibliography:   King Arthur: Tales of the Round Table by Andrew Lang (1902).  Web Source: Untextbook

Storytelling for Week 10: An Old Man and his Daughter

Outside my home I sat, keeping my old hands busy with familiar work.  What was once my life's purpose now kept me busy, kept my mind from wandering to past places that were no more.  I missed those old times, when I put my trade to use and men were noble and proud.  Now men are boys, full of themselves and feminine.  My daughter, a beautiful reflection and reminder of my wife, sat by my side weaving intricate patterns and designs.  Although she was sitting next to me, her mind was somewhere far away, lost in thought.  Why she stayed with me I don't know; suitors came seeking her hand, but she waved them off like bothersome gnats during summer.
As we sat occupied with our work and thoughts something broke our silence, a footstep of someone approaching.  Out stepped a man who stood apart from those of his generation, a man whose deeds and words were of someone much older and wiser.  I knew him as a occasional customer as well as by his preceding reputation.  I welcomed him in, glad to have such good company, and my daughter did as well.

 Hands. Web Source: Imgarcade

He walked inside our home with his large stature filling the doorway, and we sat as my daughter brought refreshment for our guest. He talked for a while, my daughter entranced by our guest's every word.  This was not like his usual visits, however; he spoke with purpose, leading the conversation to the reason he was there.  He talked slowly and clearly, asking permission for my daughter's hand.  I took a moment to gather my thoughts, but I knew that this man would care for and love her. 

"You have my permission, but there is someone else who must say yes," I said looking over at my daughter.

I looked at him and then looked at her, my daughter looking even more lovely than she normally did.  She nodded and he took her hand, leading her away from our home.  I stood watching them leave, and I suddenly realized that I was alone.  I slowly sat back down outside my home, keeping my old hands and mind busy with familiar work.

Author's Note:  For this story, I used Hiawatha's Wooing from the The Song of Hiawatha by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow.  In the original telling, Hiawatha goes to an old arrow maker to ask for his daughter's hand in marriage.  After he agrees, Hiawatha and the daughter, Minnehaha, return to Hiawatha's village, leaving the old arrow-maker.  I decided to tell the story from the arrow-maker's perspective because in the original, he is left all alone when his daughter leaves apparently never to return, and is sad and lonely.  I left mostly everything the same in terms of plot progression, but I left all the names and occupations ambiguous because Hiawatha has a lot of back story and I felt like that would drag down a quick story such as this.  Also, the original doesn't mention the arrow-maker's wife, so I assumed that he is a widower.  I'll probably have to go back through and edit because I was pretty tired writing this.

Bibliography:  The Song of Hiawatha by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow (1855).  Web Source:  Untextbook

Week 7 Storytelling: Honey Do's

Once upon a time in suburban America, a man lived with his wife.  They had achieved the American dream and a two-story house with a white-picket fence.  One day, the man's wife became sick and wouldn't take any of the medicine which they had in their house.  He kept offering her pain pills, fever-reducing pills, and decongestant pills, but she kept refusing to take the medicine.  She kept getting sicker and sicker yet there was nothing the man could do.

"Well if you won't take anything we have here, what would you like?"  The man said trying every option he could.

"Um, go to Walgreens," she said, "and get me Motrin."  Off the husband went to the drug store to get the medicine which they inconveniently did not have at home.

When he returned with the Motrin, he brought it to his wife. 

Upon seeing the medicine, she said, "I can't take that, it's normal strength Motrin! I need maximum strength!"  The husband grabbed the receipt and medicine and went back to the drug store to exchange the pills.  When he came home he handed her the new pills.

"I can't take that, its Motrin maximum strength AM, I need Motrin maximum strength PM!" She said indignantly.  The man again grabbed the receipt and medicine then went back to the store.  Finally, after returning again, he gave her the pills she wanted and she eventually got better.

The next day however, the husband succumbed to the same illness that his wife had.

Medicine Aisle. Web source: Pollard Press

"Honey, I don't feel good, could you go get me a movie to watch?" He said in a raspy voice.  Off the wife went to the movie store to get him a movie.  When she returned, the husband was dismayed to see she had brought home a chick flick, "The Fault in Our Stars."

"You know I wouldn't like those types of movies, could you go get me something that is funny?" The husband said.  Off his wife went to find a funny movie.  When she returned, however, the husband realized much to his dismay that she brought home "Grown-Ups 2."

"Honey, you know that Adam Sandler movies are terrible anymore and he's just spewing them out for the money,"  the husband said in a sad tone, reflecting his broken soul which missed the days when Adam Sandler made genuinely funny movies.  "Could you just go rent "The LEGO Movie?"'

Off his wife went again to find the husband a movie.  However, foul luck befell the wife.  While inside the movie store, she forgot to lock her car door.  A serial killer was on the loose and decided the wife would be his next victim.  The killer hopped into the back of the unlocked car and waited for the wife.  After she returned to her car and began back home, the killer pulled out a gun and told the woman she was going to die.  Pleading, she asked the serial killer to spare her life and instead take her husband's.  After much consideration, the serial killer agreed and they continued back to the couple's house.  The husband greeted his wife expecting a surprisingly funny movie that all ages could enjoy with a well rounded cast; instead, he met with his own demise.

The End.

Author's Note:  Sorry about the terrible conclusion, but the story that I used, Motikatika, had a similar situation.  Motikatika is about an African couple where the wife gets sick and the husband goes and gets things for her to make her feel better.  After several outings where the husband doesn't bring the wife what she wants, he finally makes her feel better but in the process he becomes sick.  The same thing repeats where the wife goes out, however, on the last trip, my story diverges from the original.  The wife comes across an ogre and offers her magical baby to be eaten in exchange for her own life.  After the magician baby pulls several fast ones on the wife and ogre who attempt to catch him, the husband is eaten in the process and the story ends.  The frustration I felt after reading the original story will hopefully match your reaction at my terrible ending.  I omitted a version of the magical baby because I couldn't figure out how on earth to make a similar character for mine.

Bibliography:  The Crimson Fairy Book by Andrew Lang, 1903.

Storytelling for Week 3: A Lethal Detour

A Lethal Detour

    After finishing up a contracted operation from the United States Army back in 2006, my Blackwater Team, a private military contracting company, and I were to rendezvous back at the regional operation base 100 miles from our previous target in a small Afghani town.  We completed our mission successfully but my team suffered heavy causalities back at our mission to eliminate a local chief and also lost several of our SUV's to IED's (Improvised explosive devices) on the road.  The trip back that we were on would take a couple days due to problems with locals and poor road conditions.  We rode with poor spirits through this lawless countryside and found an seemingly safe place where we could treat our wounded and rest.  The area we were in was rocky and mountainous, and contained many caves and crevices.  I rounded up a six man team of my remaining healthy men with me to see if the locals were friendly.  While we didn't have food, we did have some good vodka  one of my men had procured from our previous mission to give as a good-willed gesture.  Also most of our larger .308 and .223 rounds were gone, so all we had were our Beretta side arms. We trekked up the nearby mountain with the little ammo we had and eventually stumbled across a vacant village with its back a huge sheer cliff.  After scouting a bit, we decided to make ourselves at home in the house at the back of this abandoned village right next to the cliff.  

     Not much time had passed when we heard a commotion outside.  We stepped out of the house to see several run-down trucks full of at least 20 or 30 armed men.  While we were not wearing U.S. troop gear, we definitely looked like we didn't belong in the mountains of Afghanistan.  Finally noticing us, the obvious leader of their band yelled out in broken English, "Who are you and what brings you to our camp?  You are not American soldiers but do you bring us trouble?"  Since I was in charge, I carefully spoke out, trying to avoid conflict since we were out-manned and outgunned:  "We are private contractors, not part of the U.S. forces and we just seek shelter and rest."  Their leader's eyes blazed with hate and said, "You people are just as bad as they, but I am not going to do anything, however, where are the rest of your men, are they close?"  Knowing that he would hunt down the rest of our injured group, I said, "It's just us, we're a small group and the others with us died from a roadside bomb."  After a silence that seemed to last forever, he lifted up his AK-47 and gunned down two of my men instantly.  We fled inside and watched as he mercilessly destroyed the remains of the two men.  Since the house we were in was backed by the cliff, we had to make due and hold out.  Their leader laughed, blockaded us in, and set up some of his men to make sure we didn't try anything, knowing we couldn't escape but not wanting to lose any men trying to get us out. 

(An Afghan soldier in Loi Kalay,  Websource: Vanity Fair)

     We waited for a while, posted up taking guard shifts, glancing outside to make sure they didn't try to advance.  As night fell, the two men on shift noticed movement outside and quick as a flash, the two of them were consecutively sniped by someone using an old Russian Dragunov sniper rifle.  After hearing the rifle shots and hearing my comrades' bodies hit the floor, I quickly realized the futility of our predicament.  Knowing that their leader was probably nearby, I shouted out as loudly as I could, "We are beaten and you could kill us, but if you spare us we can pay you handsomely in U.S. dollars and we even originally brought you a gift of good Russian vodka."  I opened the door a tiny bit and managed to roll out the couple bottles of vodka we had.  After what seemed like an eternity, we heard a voice from the dark, "Is that all you have?  Throw out the rest of what you have and we'll consider."  After throwing out what we had left, we waited in silence and after some time had passed, we heard the sounds of carousing and the majority of their men began drinking the spirits we had given them.  We glanced out the window and saw most of the guards had gone leaving only a boy too young to drink with his gun trained on the house.  

     Waiting until most of them fell into a drunken stupor, we quickly rushed and overpowered the inexperienced boy guarding us, knocking him out and taking his gun.  We stole our way to where most of the men were passed out from drinking.  We quickly pulled out our knives and began to quietly kill all of the men.  The last one we came across, their leader, was my target so I could enact revenge but against the urging of my men, I decided to not kill him but instead blind him so he could live out the remainder of his days useless.  As I slashed his eyes, he began to scream out in agony and realized his mistake in letting down his guard.  We left him there and made our way back down the mountain to the rest of our team.  At the sight of us, they were filled noticed our missing members and the pitiful state we were in.  We quickly packed things up and headed on our way, leaving that miserable mountain behind. 

Author's Note:  For this storytelling week, I used The Land of the Cyclopes, Prisoners of the Cyclops, and The Cyclops Defeated from Homer's Odyssey.  If you haven't read the original it is essentially Odysseus and his men are trapped by a cyclops in a cave where they are slowly being eaten.  After some time, they trick the cyclops into getting drunk and while he is asleep, they blind him.  They use the cyclops disadvantage of no sight to sneak out but in Odysseus's pride, he reveals his name to the cyclops, who in turn gets his father Poseidon to curse them so they won't return home safely.  I decided to use the idea of private military contractors in Afghanistan because I had just recently watched a Vice piece on their practices in Afghanistan and Odysseus's actions and relation to Agamemnon from both the Iliad and this made decide to use this parallel.  I tried to keep a majority of the story similar to the original but there are some major differences.  In the original, there is only one cyclops, Polyphemus, that Odysseus deals with instead of a group of soldiers.  Also, I decided to omit the play on words Odysseus tells Polyphemus that his name is Nobody.  I tried to make something like that work but I couldn't make it fit.  There are of course other differences but I felt like those were the major ones that would diverge my telling from the original.

Bibliography:  "The Land of the Cyclopes," "Prisoners of the Cyclops," and "The Cyclops Defeated" translated by Tony Kline, from Homer's The Odyssey (2002).  Web source:  Homer's Odyssey

Storytelling for Week 2: The Quarrel from my Side, Agamemnon

   The Quarrel from my Side, Agamemnon

After my troops conquered some city and gave my chiefs some of the spoils, they gave me a girl whose name I didn't bother with remembering, but she was apparently a priest's daughter.  This man had the gall to try and buy back his daughter with gold and acted like he was rooting for me.  After he groveled before me for a bit, I became tired and told him:  "Get out of here you stupid old man and don't come back or it will be worse, and you will never see your daughter again."  I laughed to myself at the old man and how pathetic he was while he scurried off like the rat he was.

 Agamemnon by Philippe Chery.  Web Source:  1st Art Gallery

   After that, the weather turned miserable and many of my men died, but thankfully I had plenty of them so it didn't matter, but eventually some bleeding-heart chief of mine decided enough men had died so they put together a meeting.  For most of the meeting, I sat back and listen to the men moan and groan about the problems of dying and whatnot, but eventually my stupid prophet had the nerve to blame me of all people for what was happening and told me to not only give up the stupid girl but to give them a hundred animals.  Of course, I told them what for, "I don't even know why I keep you around you useless prophet.  Also, I don't even want the girl so send her back but none of the loot."  I figured that would make the underlings happy and I could just find another girl anyway, but this Achilles has to keep whining and tries to say he'll pay me even more if I just give them some of my spoils.  Since I am king and they aren't, I'll take my share when and where I want it, and in fact, I laughed a bit when I told them "If you all try to take what's mine, I'll take all of your loot as well."  Achilles began to drone on and on again complaining, I wasn't too sure since I lost attention but I got tired of listening and having him even being near me so I told him:  "I can replace you any day of the week and in fact I will.  Not only that, but the girl you got is mine now, use this as a lesson to learn that I am large and in charge around here."  I finally hit a nerve and he tried to be tough and pull out his sword, but I guess since I am so awesome he chickened out and couldn't pull out his sword.  Afterwards, he had a tantrum and cried about something, trying to insult me and instead broke his own little play stick.

Author's Note:  For this storytelling week, I used The Quarrel from the Iliad.  I decided to tell the story from Agamemnon's perspective because I found him to be very pompous throughout the Iliad and I figured he would be a very greedy, self-indulgent man who assumed everyone else was worthless.  His own greed and pride was his hubris so I figured I would try to add a bit of input since he was still a fairly static character in the epic.

Bibliography:  "The Quarrel" retold by Alfred J. Church, from The Iliad (1907).  Web source:  The Quarrel

Week 1 Storytelling: The Skank and the Neighbor

THE SKANK AND THE NEIGHBOR

The skank always sleeps during the day since she is always hung over from the previous night's escapades.  When the sun goes down and the bars open up however, she puts on her shiniest, most revealing outfit and puts on her makeup warpaint. Soon, her obnoxiously loud "Oh My God's" and "Literally's" can be heard all around campus corner, and she begins her hunt for the athletes and older fraternity members with whom she loves to hook up.

metro.co.uk 

Now there was a certain older skank who had become very cranky after failing so many classes and lost her father's financial support, and she would explode with anger if anyone interrupted her beauty sleep. One fall semester afternoon as she was crashing in her apartment suffering from a major hangover, her next door neighbor started watching a movie loudly on his new surround sound system. She made her way outside and traveled to her neighbor's door.
"Hey turn that crap down," she said to her neighbor. "What's your problem? You are literally so loud right now, just saying!"
But her neighbor said that he could do whatever he wanted in his own apartment and it wasn't passed quiet hours yet. After that, he turned the volume up on his surround sound even louder to the point it would reverberate the thin walls.
The skank knew that she wouldn't get anywhere trying to convince her neighbor to turn down the tv. She also wasn't all the way sober from the night before and all of the free drinks she had accumulated through the night. So she changed her attitude quickly and said to him with a flirty tone.
"Well," she said, "do you mind if I watch it with you, I literally love this movie. Actually, I've got some pop and sour patch kids that I've been saving up and we can snuggle up and watch it in my apartment on my comfy bed and eat snacks and maybe do some more stuff."
The one tracked minded guy was taken in by the skank's advances. So he grabbed his movie and bolted over to her apartment, where upon entering he was pelted with the previous nights beer bottles and left with a concussion and glass shard cuts.

Why can't girls travel in groups of 2 or 4?

Because they can't even. 

Author's Note:  I used the Aesop fable "The Owl and the Grasshopper" as inspiration for this story, which can be found at Gutenburg.  I used the idea of a morally ambiguous girl for this retelling mainly because I couldn't think of anything else and the stereotypical college girl is always funny to me, so sorry if this is offensive to anyone, I was having a brain fart so this had to do.

Bibliography:  "The Owl and the Grasshopper" by ÆSOP, from The ÆSOP for Children

(1919). Web Source: Gutenburg