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The Black Sheep
The Booze News
• a college newspaper that’s actually about college •
Volume 20, Issue 13 4/18/12 - 4/25/12
theblacksheeponline.com @BlackSheep_UIUC
My Dad Really, Really Wants to Come Down for Mom’s Weekend (for Some Reason) Mike, Beast’s Son wrote this
Last year, at around the time of Dad’s Weekend, I was a lonely freshman without many friends. I was looking forward to a nice weekend of ketchup-drenched brats and two-hand-touch football with my old man. On the Friday of Dad’s Weekend, I got a mysterious text from my dad saying, “Be there at 4.” By the time 4:00p.m. rolled around I was eagerly awaiting his arrival. This was when I got a text from him that read, “Im ger coym ket me in!” to which I looked out the window to find my drunk father next to his crashed car. After stopping him from assaulting a young group of parkour-ers who he mistook for Vietnamese assassins, we headed to a frat party. I didn’t get in, but apparently they knew my dad and kept calling him “The Beast.” I had to bail my dad out of jail for throwing a bowling ball off of a balcony. Needless to say, the event was traumatizing. However, I am quick to forgive, and by the time summer break rolled around I was ready to put the whole thing behind me. However, when I came home for the first time that summer, I noticed the locks had been changed on our front door. Along with this, there was a note which read, “Son, you are no longer welcome here. Do not ask questions. Do not cry like a woman. Just go.” The note was signed, “This isn’t over —The Beast.” I spent the rest of the summer living inside of a White Castle. My unwashed and homeless appearance allowed me to blend in with the regular patrons. When the new school year came around I moved into a house in Urbana and focused on my studies. When Dad’s Weekend was approaching once again, my phone began to ring hundreds of times a night. The voicemails left were only heavy breathing. When the weekend finally came, my father drove down, but I boarded my windows and refused his entry. He drove up and down my street a couple times, fired some buckshot into my walls, and left, admitting defeat. I didn’t hear a single word from my father after that. That is, until this week. On Monday of this week, I came home from class and, being hungry, went immediately to my kitchen. I was about to begin microwaving my PB&J when I noticed that the window in my kitchen was broken. He was here. Sure enough, I walked into my living room to find my father and four of his friends dressed in all-black suits, smoking cigars, and watching Grease with the sound turned completely off. “Hello, Nicholas. We’re here for Mom’s Weekend.” “Dad, my name is Mike.”
“That’s it, I’m calling the cops.” My dad and his friends initially thought I was kidding, but when I pulled out my phone they all picked up bricks and smashed individual windows to run away. Before leaving, my Dad turned around and said, “See you on Friday,” and ran off.
“Son, shut up. From now on you must call me ‘The Beast.’” “Dad... I mean The Beast. This is enough. I’m sick of you playing all these weird games ever since Dad’s Weekend. You have to get out of my house. Why would you want to come down on Mom’s Weekend anyway? You’re married.” With these words my dad’s friends all laughed and took long drags out of their cigars. “Oh son, you have so much to learn. The women are only part of it. We’re here to show this town what true danger is. What a true party is.” “Well, what are all your friends doing here? Don’t you guys have jobs?” “Kid, don’t flatter yourself. We’re not here to hang out with no skateboarding hipster. We’re here because we haven’t gotten our rocks off since ‘Nam.”
If Friday would have been the next time I saw my Dad and his gang of friends, “The Stone Greasers,” I would be a happy man. No, despite my Dad’s words, the group came back to my house an hour later when they were informed that they couldn’t sleep at The Silver Bullet. And though my father had been acting strange ever since last year’s Dad’s Weekend and his greaser friends scared me, I just couldn’t leave him out on the street. After all, he’s my old man. Assuming that my act of kindness to let them stay at my place would grant some sympathy from The Beast, I thought it would be okay to leave them alone when I went to class on Tuesday. When I got back, my Dad’s friends were all asleep on the living room floor covered in dip spit and dice. Everything looked okay until I got to my room. The entire space had been cleaned out except for a shotgun and what appeared to be a kilo of cocaine. There was a note written on the door that read, “This is my room now. I am disappointed in you. —The Beast.”
continued on page 19
A Beautiful Poem by a Third Grader. see page 6
Other stuff
Inside
What is a Mother?
It's April 2031, and snooki's little meatball is now a freshman.
It's mom's weekend and it's 4/20... doesn't sound very chill, man.
see page 9
see page 18
Snooki Does Mom's Weekend
The Mother Of All Paranoia