Story # 2 as told to my French tutor, Ann.
The first couple of years at college, I lived in the dormitory, known officially as Burton, but dubbed "the ghetto" by the student body. I lived on the "backside" of the dorm which opened out into a small field on which many an adventure was had.
Once every few months me and the "backside boys" would plan a cookout of magnificent proportions. By the time of this story we had developed a plan of cooking out that enabled us the greatest amount of grub, with the smallest amount of work and moochers. For after cookout #1 we realized that grilled food brings the masses quickly to our lair, with a hand out. So we worked out a plan to have each interested person bring at least one item, and scrounged to find enough grills to cook it all.
Being college boys we typically prowled the evening for other services before our minds were set on food. This particular night the proceedings didn't start until 9 pm or so. By the time the grills were good and hot and the meat was cooking it was after 10. We had burgers, hot dogs and shrimp cooking. Lawnchairs were set about and good times were being had by all. Being a private, Christian university, beverages of an alcoholic variety were not in presence. Though a security guard did stop by to ensure our followance of this policy.
Things really got going around 11. Hamburgers were being passed around, the shrimp was cooked, the pasta nice and tender. The moochers were present, but we had plenty to go around. James Taylor was rolling through a hot rendition of "Steamroller." Life was good. There is nothing like spending a warm September night outdoors with plenty of food, drink and good company.
The party toiled on until late in the evening. Around 2 AM or so a guy from one of the dorm rooms nearby, Jason, came stumbling out. He was in his boxer shorts and tee shirt.
"Guys, guys, can you keep it down?" he said. "I've got to get up in the morning and go to work."
"Oh sorry, man." We all said in unison. "Didn't mean to bug ya."
At this question, Jason leaned his face towards the earth, rubbed his hand across the stubble of his head, and said "yeah."
A couple of burgers and nearly an hour later he clamored back to his room, mumbling something about keeping it down.