[Exclusive] FRAT LIKE ME: Issue #1 “We totally owned an Alligator”
The ‘Frat Like Me’ Issues are a series of real stories compiled from the college years of several of my friends, myself and writers associated with this website. We all engaged in some really stupid behavior, the hilarious consequences of which will finally be spoken of here. No, relatively few of us were “Frat” or “Bro” enough to make it into the cookie cutter Fraternities on many college campuses, but that never stopped us from “being awesome” in the heat of the moment and living life to the fullest for those glorious years known as COLLEGE.
At one point, we totally owned an alligator. I was in my final year of college, having lived in a fraternity for four years I saw some shit. This was still one of the oddest things, because all people ever hear about Fraternities, was about hazing or some poor young moron getting drunk and falling out of a window.
But our younger generation thought to one-up the norm. “Let’s get an alligator, TONS of chicks will want to come over and see it…” And that was the point, to get more girls interested in our fraternity. We weren’t lady killers, our frat was a conglomeration of many different types of young men from the socially inept to theatre geek (me) to Jock to the classic ‘Ladies Man.’ We housed all the above and I can’t say that it didn’t make for a super fun college experience. Because then some guys bought a fucking alligator, and shit got real.
Four underclassmen stayed up all night scouring the Internet for a website they could buy and ship live animals from. It was found in the form of some shady guy in Florida, looking to unload several live baby alligators. For about $133, anyone can pay some sketchy dude from Miami to overnight a live reptile. Our guys stayed up all night waiting for package to arrive.
Around 11am, a courier truck pulled up, I still can’t say the name of the company (but it totally rhymed with Schmed-Ex) and dropped off what looked like a brick of heroine to our front door, to literally whoever would to sign for it. They unwrapped the package promptly, and the poor lifeless animal fell to the hard cold floor of our foyer.
“That dirty motherfucker fucked us!!”
Four fraternity brothers stared at a small green lizard, which looked remarkable like an alligator, wondering how they’re going to get all that beer money back.
Apparently, shipping live baby alligators is easy and profitable.
1. Ignore any federal regulations stating live animals MUST BE SHIPPED IN AN ANIMAL COURIER and then sandwich the little sonofabitch between two square pieces of styrofoam.
2. Then wrap that with tape and brown packing paper so it looks like it came out of the movie “Blow”.
3. Send it to any Fraternity at Washington State University.
4. Repeat until you are rich.
I want to say my four brothers staring at the little guy were bummed, but I wasn’t there to witness. All of a sudden, the lizard sprang to life, as one of the guys described it, “like it hadn’t breathed in a day.”
So with all the drunken power of ‘Frat,’ they were able to evoke shaman-like abilities capable of bringing a small alligator back to life. Let the fun begin.
They told fucking everbody. These guys were so proud of their alligator aptly named, Griz Green, in honor of the guys’ favorite chewing tobacco. And he was a cool sideshow to be associated with. Girl’s loved to come over to see the alligator. And to be fair to my brothers, they bought all the necessary equipment to support a habitat for the little guy. A 50-gallon clear Rubbermaid tub, heat lamps, sand/pebbles, and all the crickets and sorority girl fingers he could munch on.
That was my favorite thing for a minute, to watch these guys tell girls’ it was ok to shove their innocent fingers into a baby alligators face without consequence.
“Are you sure? I mean he’s a fucking alligator.”
“Stacy, it’s fine, he’s like a baby alligator.”
Hours later groups of hammered sorority girls would be leaving with band aids and bite marks on their hands, “Bye guys! We had so much fun!”
At the height of our alligator kingdom the college newspaper wanted to interview the guys in the house; sadly it would also mark the end. The day after the interview made the paper, the Pullman Police showed up promptly at 8am… and then again at 10:30am when we were up.
According to the Police it was, “seriously illegal to for someone to own an alligator in the state of Washington.” And, “if it was illegal for one person to own an alligator, it was also illegal for 50 people to own an alligator.” We had to show the police everything, where we kept Grizz Green (they were actually impressed, our guys did their homework) and the website where they purchased him.
I was present to hear the police say, “You have two weeks to find a home for the alligator or we’ll start fining everybody… blah blah blah.. And will also need to see a receipt to show a transfer of ownership when you do…yadda yadda yadda..”
The one thing the officer said that really got me was, “and you can’t just flush it down the toilet to get rid of it.” To which I immediately imagined a full-grown alligator stuck halfway into a toilet that ‘we just don’t use anymore.’ They actually thought we were heartless enough to just dispatch our new friend to a watery grave.
The Vet school was nice enough to take the Griz off our hands before really lame fines stared to accrue through the police department. When we first got Griz, he was about 10-12 inches long. By the end of the first year he was about 4-5 feet and according the guys who would actually go and check on him at the vet school was, “totally killing it with the other reptiles.”
If you take anything away from this story… Do some goddamn research before pursuing an animal worthy of Tony Montana’s time. Have a story where you partook in something really stupid when you were younger? Post it below with some contact info and we’ll reach out, maybe it’ll make the cut for FRAT LIKE ME. OR tweet your best drunk/college story to @berardjr #fratlikeme.
Tune in next time for Issue #2: “Jaegerlympics”
 Shame on you Schmed-Ex.
 This is how our guys tell the story.
 Which now only sold nutritional supplements.
 This is how a ‘fraternity brain’ stores a serious legal event in its’ memory banks.