The Black Sheep
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• a college newspaper that’s actually about college •
Volume 8, Issue 8 • 2/27/13 - 3/6/13
theblacksheeponline.com @MSUBlackSheep
rush hour 4: sparty spring break msu staff wrote this
“Come on, Lee, you really think a place called ‘Menna’s Joint’ is gonna have egg drop soup? You too ridiculous sometimes,” says detective Carter, as he takes another bite of his Waui Dub. Inspector Lee defends himself, “Carter, your ignorance shines like bright sunlight through cloud. Menna was ancient Chinese prophet. Menna translated mean ‘lover of egg-drop soup and dubs with much sour cream.’” “Whatever, man. I’ve been workin’ on ma white belt for three months. Don’t you think that’s one of the first things Master Takeashita would have told me?” Lee drops the subject. The prophet Menna is the least of their worries right now; they’re not visiting East Lansing on their spring break for pleasure, or to prepare their livers for St. Patrick’s Day, or to pay homage to the legendary prophet Tom Izzo. No, they’re here to blow a case wide open; this bust could go down as one of the biggest in East Lansing history. They’ve been summoned to take down the local black market ring for artisan handjobs—an operation that’s been a parasite to the greater East Lansing area for decades. There are not many leads, but one thing is clear: those heathens at The State News definitely have a hand, or two, in the lucrative, meaty, and incredibly messy business. After wrapping up their meal, Lee and Carter cautiously stumble down the now-deserted alley behind Grand River, in search of Carter’s lone contact, Willie the Can Man. An exotic metals expert, local bard, and artisan handjbber connoisseur, Willie is just the man to help Lee and Carter break the case. The sound of cans jingling lets them know that Willie can’t be far. “Psst, hey, ya’ll, it’s me, Will—Goddamn, that’s a big raccoon!” Willie exclaims as he jumps out from a bush, his pants at this ankles. “Sorry, y’all caught me at a bad time. Ever since that editor at The State News stopped allowing me to pay with cans, I’ve been left to my own devises for artisan pleasure. And with the students on spring break, even the can game is slowing down. It is what it is; the game is the game, though.”
At that moment, one of Willie’s cans falls out of his trash bag and clangs to the floor. Their cover is blown. As the interns begin to surround them, preparing to eliminate the two by inducing a pleasure stroke: a method of giving a lifetime of orgasms in a passionate artisan wank that’s intended to cause a blood rush no man could survive. They're surrounded, and the penetrating, grouping hands of the interns are very ferocious.
Enticed but skeptical, Carter continues, “Now, wait a minute, maybe we should conduct a little research before we jump to conclusions.”
Just then, Lee busts through the door and begins fending the interns off and making sure to keep their hands as far away from dicks as possible. One by one, Lee took out intern after intern with his Tiger-style, Liquid Sword-style, and Shaolin Shadowboxing.
Willie squirms with pleasure, “Hell yea we should do some research. Either of y’all have six bucks? Carter, I’ll sneak us in. Lee, you keep look out, or just head to Rice Kitchen, or Heartbeats, or whatever.”
Finally, all that is left is the ringleader himself, The State News editor. He fights and fights to grab them and pleasure them into the sweet caress of death, but he is no match for the trio of Lee, Carter, and Willie.
Once inside, Willie takes lead and clings to the shadows. He knows the place better than the inside of a Busch Light can as he navigates the labyrinth and avoids the interns with incredible precision.
They return to the surface as heroes, although no students are around to recognize them as such. East Lansing’s reign of black market artisan handjobs had finally been ended and this exotic pleasure was, once again, free for anyone to enjoy, as God intended.
“Carter, we deep now. We gots to be careful. Them submissive interns, they the labor—they’re the specialists who have nearly perfect the artisan tug session. Just, you know, act natural.”
The Joy of Hissing at Cats Whether felines or old black jazz musicians, all cats deserve to be hissed at.
page 4
Case closed, America.
what'’s inside
Top Ten: Mistakes to Avoid on Spring Break
Spring Break is truly a time for making stories, stains, and sexy mistakes.
page 5
An Open Letter to Jose Cuervo When you venture to Los Tres Amigos, you might just find love in a random place.
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