Hofstra Undercover

November 2, 1997

By Morgan Carlson

So, guys, guess what my Saturday night was like? Here's some clues:
downloading South Park sound files..... playing Sony Playstation..... sending
E-mail..... yup, it's official - I'm a nerd. Geez, what do cool kids do
on a Saturday night? Hmmm......

Kristen's Beretta 9MM shot straight and true, the bullets hitting the
terrorist's chest and spilling blood all over the Iraqi consolate's Persian
rug. Kristen, better known on the job as Special Agent Mullarkey, code name
Lettuce, ducked behind the desk and reloaded her weapon. She hadn't
wanted a bloodbath, but once the alarm had gone off all hell broke loose.
She had only come to the Consolate Palace for the disarming codes for
Hussein's nuclear weapons, now she had to fight off a horde of trained
royal guards.
Leaping into action, she shot a soldier rushing at the desk, and he hit the
ground faster than a cheerleader at a frat party. "Shit!" she shouted, as
more guards burst in through the huge double doors of the consolate's office.
Desperately needing cover, Kristen ran to a huge potted plant and fell to her
knees faster than, um, well, a cheerleader at a frat party.
"Come out quietly, American, and you shall leave alive." Kristen's highly
trained ears recognized that voice and horribly stereotypical terrorist
accent. It was Hussein himself! He approached Kristen's hiding spot, his
guards right behind him.
Kristen was trained with a (beware - in-joke that looks like a
misspelling approaching) viarity of deadly martial arts styles and weapon
skills. But the odds were astronomical that she would survive a final
showdown. But Special Agent Lettuce always went against the odds. With a
pistol in each hand, she leapt from her hiding spot and began blasting away
at the Iraqi masses. Needless to say, Kristen survived and came back in time
to work down at CVS. Oh yeah, she used her suave superspy skills to
score with some male underwear model who sizes condoms for a living,
too.

Allan laughed and swung around the subway pole with childish glee.
Nothing was more fun than New York City on a Saturday night. Especially
when you're running around, mugging people and pawning their stuff for
cocaine.

The room fell quiet for the first time that night as Lisa and Carrie
strode inside. Despite the party going on around them, every male eye
turned towards the door. And only one thing was on each of their minds:
"Well, maybe they have some cute friends coming later." One of the
bolder men strode up to Carrie and said:
"Man, I hope you're as easy as your friend looks."
"Not really." she replied, with disgust. "At least, not until I get
nice and drunk."
Lisa spotted a worthy target standing in a corner, apparently having a
conversation with a wall socket.
"So, having a good time?" she asked him.
"Yeah.... but I don't know why. It's either the music or the drugs."
"Maybe it's cause of me!" she said, laughing.
"No, definitely not you."
Carrie was also having troubles nearby with a fraternity guy.
"So, baby, wanna come back to my room after this?" he asked, careful to
breathe his beer-flavored breath in her face so as not to appear sober.
"Um, well, no thanks, I, um, prefer girls." she replied, almost believably.
"Oh." he said, as ponderously as one can when they are sweating Coors Lite.
"Wow, me too. Cool."
Needless to say, Lisa and Carrie went together and left together
without male accompanyment. Not that I'm implying anything. They're
just friends. I'm sure nothing happened. Yeah. Wink wink.

Brie-Anne and Rachel.... well, they were probably studying. Thanks,
you two, for making sure that someone had an even nerdier night than I did.
C'mon guys, what can two girls do sitting in their room all night? Oh,
heh heh, gotcha. Again, not that I'm implying anything. I'm sure it was
all studying. Yeah.

- Morgan -

ecent.