Aden Gratzky had it all figured out. He and his new roommates were finally about to throw a rager in Brittany. They had a 24-rack of Bud Light that they nervously purchased from 7/11, some dank nugs that smelled suspiciously like oregano, and had texted at least eight girls they pressured numbers out of during welcome week. Oh yes, Gratzky thought, tonight was gonna be perfect.
In due time, the girls arrive, everyone’s drinking, people seem to be having a good time. Smooth, sensual beats float through the air. The vibe is definitely “chill.”
Suddenly, Aden has a bright idea. He’s totally talented and plays the guitar. That means that everyone should hear him play the guitar!
He pretends not to make a big deal about it as he reaches for his case, pretends not to notice the several sets of eyes that follow him. In his mind, they’re muttering excitedly: “Is that Aden reaching for his guitar?” “I didn’t know he played!” “Aw, he’s so sensitive underneath that rugged, manly exterior.”
“Aden, what are you doing?” his roommate asks, wide-eyed and with a bit of panic in his voice.
“Nothing, man, don’t worry about it,” Aden replies, expertly attaching a capo to the fingerboard.
“No, man, seriously listen to me. This is a bad idea–” his roommate begins to plead, but Aden cuts him off.
“Hey, guys. HEY GUYS. Do you wanna hear this song I wrote?” Aden pleads. The girl leaning against the wall texting looks at her friends, shakes her head vigorously, and motions towards the door. They leave.
“Hey, where are you going? Guys? Don’t you wanna hear–” His roommates stand up and leave, never to return.
“Guys? Anybody?” Aden sighs dramatically. “Well anyway… here’s Wonderwall.”