dining hall side.
i was smoking, and i saw him stumble around the corner.
he was wearing a black polo, the kind you see someone wear at an electronics store.
he had a matching messenger bag, that was oriented behind him, kind of like a backpack.
but with one strap.
his pants were either cargo shorts intentionally frayed to look like cutoffs.
or they were actual cutoffs. and sandals.
he approached another group of people, that he presumably knew, and started yelling.
another large bro-ish type shook his fist in the air at him.
a girl in a blue track jacket got between them and "held them back."
they struggled towards each other for a few minutes, shouting obscenities, and then disengaged.
i called out "dance-fight!" mockingly, but to my amusement, they began breaking out the most white bread dance moves in their repertoire.
the shopping cart.
the sprinkler.
"crunk-ing."
the list goes on...
after their dance-fight, they hugged each other and everyone else, and then gave me a "high-five."
i took a long drag on my cigarette, blew out the smoke slowly and whispered, "rock on, bro...rock on."
oh, and he had a final tomorrow.
-Jizzy T
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