Frat House Blues

Fraternity housing isn’t all it’s cracked up to be. I’ve been living on campus for the past seven months and I can safely say I’ve contracted at least three diseases. I didn’t expect to be this disgusted with the place but I didn’t understand how gross boys living together could get. My roommate leaves cups of milky coffee sitting for weeks at a time waiting to be discovered under a pile of laundry. I have touched something growing on a sock at least twice. I’m certainly reacting to mould in at least one place, but I’m told lung function isn’t necessary for math majors. I don’t really have much of an argument there if I say so myself.
So I’m now looking for somewhere better for myself to grow and learn by myself. There are many houses to rent near campus and I think I might be able to split one with another math major, Max Meijer from the front who’s tired of the constant trips to the ER for extreme asthma remedies. I am very excited at the prospect of living alone for once. Having my own room, this community college is going to be the kind of place where I can just take the pressure. I know the curriculum backwards and forwards, and it will allow me flex.
I’ll Show them. They have never seen the likes of me, and shan’t again. When my Campaign for world domination was defeated last spring, no one suspected that it would begin again at a small accreted community college, ¬†The FBI have nothing on me, and the CIA wish they had my skills at their disposal. The final step will be the unveiling of my Algebraic Algorithmic ¬†Atrocity Aquation. Remember math major, not English. Soon you all will quake at the name Haley Joel Osmitt.