“Oh, shit,” Clarice says, her arms crossed, leaning against the wall. Biff Diggerence is now showing signs of life; he’s to be seen stroking Sue Shaw’s hair with a hot-dog finger, and winking down at her, making clicking noises with the corner of his mouth, as Sue whimpers and gets set to cry.
“Initiation?” Mindy says.
“Affirmative. The High Demiurge and Poobah of the Psi Phi fraternal order of brothers himself has sent us out on a…,” a burp, here, “… a sort of quest, you might say. We find ourselves in search of personal decoration.”
“Decoration.”
“Auto… graphs,” Biff laughs ogg and gives a little pound on the wall with the back of his head, for emphasis.
“Autographs?”
“We need you girls to sign our asses,” says Biff, coming to the point, smiling down at Sue Shaw.
“Sign your asses?” says Mindy Metalman.
“That is unfortunately affirmative,” Lang says, flashing a smile full of bright teeth over at Lenore. “We are required…,” fishing for a piece of paper in the pocket of his blazer, perusing, “… we are requahred to secure the signatures of no fewer than fahv of Mount Holyoke’s loveliest before sunrise tomorrow. We figger of course we can sign each other, being friends and all, but that’s just one each.” He looks around significantly at each of the girls, gives Lenore a bit of a wink. “Means we need, according to my figures, four more.”.
Lenore notices Sue Shaw sitting there all quiet, looking at her leather shoes with the white soles. Biffs hands are in Sue’s bright red hair.
“So wait,” says Clarice. “You mean you want us to sign your bottoms?”
“Please.”
“Bare?”
“Well, clearly yes, that’s the whole—”
“Sweet shrieking mother of Christ what nerve.” Clarice says in amazement, staring at Lang. “And it just never occurred to you geniuses that we might say no? I’m saying no.”
“Your prerogative entirely,” says Wang-Dang Lang. “ ‘Course we very regrettably will find ourselves unable to leave until you do.” He now has his hand lightly on Mindy’s bare leg, Lenore notices. Lenore shivers a bit. Clarice makes a sudden move for the door, Biff moves in front of the knob, Clarice stops, Biff pounds the door with the back of his head again, a few times, emphasizing the general state of affairs.
Clarice stops, clearly now for a second just so mad she can’t really say or do anything at all. “You shiny bastards,” she finally gets out. “You. Amherst guys, U-Mass too, all of you. Just because you’re bigger, physically just take up more space, you think-do you think? — think you can rule everything, make women do whatever stupid rotten disgusting stuff you say you want just because you’re drunk? Well up yours, sideways.” She looks from Lang to Biff. “You come over to our parties, grinning like apes on the bus no doubt, you get smeared in about two minutes, trash us, act like we’re meat, or furniture, think you can just…,” looking around, “invade us, our room, for no other reason than that you’re just stronger, that you can block the door and pound your big greasy stupid heads on it? Screw you. Screw you.”
Lang laughs. “Regrettably an invitation extended in anger, I’m afraid.” He laughs again. Mindy smiles a bit, too. Lang’s hand is still on her leg.
But Biff is miffed, here, suddenly. “Well screw you right back Miss Rodeo Shirt,” he says to Clarice, obviously now in one of those alcoholically articulate periods. “Just come off it. This place is just the biggest…,” looking around, “the biggest giant joke!” He looks to Lang for support; Lang is whispering something to Mindy Metalman.
But Biff is pissed. “You have these parties that you advertise out our ears, all this cute teasing bullshit, ‘Come to the Comonawannaleiya party, get lei’d at the door,’ ha. ‘Win a trip to the hot tubs for two,’ blah-blah-blah. You’re just teases of the cockular sort, is what you are. So we come, like you ask and advertise for, and we put on ties, and we come over, and then we find you got security guards at the doors, with freaking guns, and we gotta have our hands stamped like fifth-graders for beer, and all the girls look at us like we’re rapists, and plus, besides, all the girls down there look like Richard Nixon, while all the real babes lock themselves up up here—”
“Like you lovely ladies, you must admit,” Wang-Dang Lang says with a smile.
Biff Diggerence whirls and whomps the door with his forehead a few times, really hard. He stays facing the door, his sails apparently windless, for a moment.
“I’m afraid he’s quite inebriated,” says Lang.
Lenore stands up, in her dress. “Please let me out.”
Lang and Mindy stand. Sue stands. Everyone’s standing with Lenore. Lang smiles and nods his head. “So if you’d just be kind enough to put your… Jocelyn Hancock on… my…,” struggling with the belt of his chinos. Mindy looks away. Biff, still breathing at the door, does his belt too. He even brought a pen; Lenore can see it sticking out of his pocket.
“No, I’m not going to touch you, much less sign you,” says Lenore.
Wang-Dang Lang looks at her, vaguely puzzled. “Well then we’re real unfortunately not going to be able to leave.”
“That’s fortunately of very little concern to me because I’m not going to be here because I’m leaving,” Lenore says.
“I’ll sign,” Sue Shaw says quietly.
Clarice stares at Sue. “What?”
“I want them out. I’ll sign.” She doesn’t look up. She looks at her shoes. Biffs pants drop with a heavy sound, he’s still facing the door. His bottom is big, broad, white, largely hairless. A vulnerable bottom, really. Lenore evaluates it calmly.
“Whuboutchoo, Melinda-Sue?” Lang asks Mindy. Lang’s in his underpants.
Mindy really looks at Lang, looks him in the eye. There’s no expression on her. After a moment she says, “Sure, why not.”
“You can sign the front if you want,” laughs Wang-Dang.
“This is disgusting. I’m leaving, let me leave, please,” says Lenore. She turns. “You’re a coward,” she says to Sue Shaw. “You have ugly feet,” she says to Mindy Metalman. “Look at her feet, Andy, before you do anything rash.” She turns to the door. “Get out of the way, Boof, or whatever your name is.”
Biff turns, the first time Lenore’s ever seen a man naked. “No.”
Lenore throws one of her spiky white high-heeled dress shoes, the kind with the metal straps, at Biff Diggerence’s head. It misses his head and hits the door above him and makes a loud sound and the heel sticks in the wood of the door. The white shoe hangs there. As if the noise of the shoe’s hitting the door were just the last straw, Sue Shaw gives a yelp and begins to cry a little, although she’s still a bit dry from being recently stoned. She has Biffs pen in her hand.
“Let me leave or I’ll put out your eye with my shoe,” Lenore says to Biff, hefting her other shoe. Wang-Dang Lang is holding Mindy Metalman’s hand.
“Let her out, she doesn’t even go here,” says Clarice. “I’ll sign too, you drips.”
“Let me out,” says Lenore.
Biff finally gets away from the door, still holding his empty Comonawannaleiya cup. He has to go over anyway, obviously, to present his bottom to Sue Shaw, there in the comer. He takes little comic steps because his pants are down around his ankles, and Lenore sees his genitals bob and waggle as he takes his tiny shuffles over to Sue. Lenore runs past in bare feet, gets her shoe out of the door. Pulls it out, the heel, looks back. Lang is kissing Mindy’s creamy cheek, with a faraway, laughing expression, in his underwear. Sue is kneeling, signing Biff. Clarice has her arms crossed. Tapping her fingers on her arms.