Fourteen Beers at Chili's

Page 16

There's no way in hell you're about to bum food off of someone you don't know. That is a level of pathetic that you are unwilling to sink to. You might as well go out back and dig for food in the trash. Besides, Derek owes you one after raiding your snack drawer all semester long. He'd eaten more than his fair share of the Cheetoes and Ho Hos your mom so lovingly sent you in your weekly care packages.

"Dude, let me have some of your nachos." You reach out towards Derek's plate without waiting for an answer.

Derek frowns and snatches his plate off the table, cradling it protectively to his chest. "No way, bro. When is the last time you washed your hands?"

What the hell? There is no way Derek is a germaphobe, given the state of his side of the dorm room. The place was basically a science experiment. One time you saw him eat a chicken nugget he found under his desk, and who knows how long it had been there. McDonald's food doesn't rot; it dries out and mummifies. Maybe Derek wanted to look like some sort of alpha in front of his bros. While you did consider Derek a friend, he definitely had a douchey side.

"Seriously?" you ask incredulously.

"Haven't you heard about that freaky flu that's going around? I'm only going to share if you go wash your hands," he demands.

The bros give you the side eye as if you've broken some sort of unwritten social etiquette. Being looked down on by frat boys was surprisingly demoralizing. Who were they to judge you? It is well known around campus that one of of Delta Phi's hazing ritual is to lick the floors of the frat house basement clean. Anybody who survived a taste of that petri dish of filth could live through sharing food with someone with unwashed hands.

It's clear Derek isn't going to back down, but you are ravenous. Washing your hands would mean giving into Derek's douchebaggery though. You still have your pride.

Do you...

GO WASH YOUR HANDS (GO TO PAGE 18)

DON'T EAT THE NACHOS (GO TO PAGE 19)

BEER COUNTER: 3