Don't Fuck With The Captain

The story I am about to tell you is the Mecca of Hellacollege. This is the apotheosis of what we do. I am not kidding. If you haven't read anything here now's the time to. We officially encountered the most triflin' event of this year.

This, ladies and gentlemen, is what we do this blog for.

So it is yet another useless Saturday night (a sad trend indeed...we could be filling out scholarships and getting ahead in classes with all that free time...Ok I'll stop bullshitting.). My fratdick pals and I are at a friends house, playing beerpong, watching hockey on mute, and bumping some 90's tracks.

To add on to the hellacollegeness of our situation, we had two distinctly triflin' ass asian friends with the same names (DTD's you know who they are) passed out due to outlandish inebriation--one passed out on the couch, Old English and orange juice his conquerer, the other facing defeat in a computer chair with his hand in a pack of Chex Mix--still chewing in his sleep.

It was one of those nights where my hellacollege spideysenses were tingling. I just had this premonition that something blog worthy was coming.

It then began.

A group of people walked by outside, and things aparently took a turn for the worst...

"WHAT THE FUCK! BITCH WHAT YOU WANNA DO? I WILL FUCK YOU UP!"

We all looked in the window to see saw an antwar-like conglomeration of people in the middle of the sidewalk outside, in a huddle of drunken anger.

like 6th grade girls, we scurried to the front door for an upclose view of the drama.

The first thing I noticed when I got outside, was the pissed off soccer dad neighboor trying to be a bad ass from the safety of his lawn screaming at the kids, "CHILL THE FUCK OUT!! CALM THE FUCK DOWN!!"

The mob of chaos was standing around two guys in what I call the circle of I'm-so-tough-I-don't-need-to-fight-you-so-I'll-intimidate-you-by-aggressively-rubbing-my-shoulder-on-yours.

It looked like yet another drunken dispute.

Now in college, A fight is typically a clash of the egos; a crowd inspired slugfest with little recollection of causation--you just know the other guy did something to piss you off and he deserves an ass whopping.

But this was much different. This was personal.

As we continue to watch the drama unfold, (still no punches thrown) a dude walks up to our porch and says "you guys wanna know whats goin' on?" and begins to give us some context to this dilemma.

apparently, the guys up the street were having a little party when these assholes showed up that nowbody knew. Being the chill hosts they were, they were more than happy to accomidate to them even though they gave off an awkward vibe. Unfortunately this was a mistake, as the unknown guests went to the kitchen and stole a prized possesion--a bag of Captain Crunch.

The cereal thieves then tried to slip out of the party unnoticed, but a mob of people from the party chased after them in hot persuit.

So what we were watching was a near fist fight confrontation--over a bag of captain crunch.

***I will never be able to say that sentence again.***

Shortly after the guy told us the story, the conflict resolved with no punches thrown. The thieves were forced to apprehend their stolen possesions, and the angry mob was able to walk back with their goal accomplished, and their Captain Crunch in hand. We cheered them on like the winners of a boxing match, and they waived their bag of sugary sweetness in the air like the heavyweight title.

It was a special moment for them.

We got back inside and laughed our asses off for several moments...then there was a knock.

???

We skeptically walked to the door in a group and opened it. A pair of dashingly cantakerous black men, with du-rags and mean mugs to match, sized us up and sternly asked,

"whodaheadadahouse?" (who is the head of the house? in white language)

They thought we were the ones causing the problems and, for reasons unknown, it appeared they were ready to brawl.

these brothas wasn't playin'

We clarified the situation and told them everything that happended and before they could even leave the porch, we broke in unanimous laughter!

But that night made me think...

reflecting back to the case of the Captain Crunch Theives, I initially thought that the people were just drunk and overreacting. But after critically thinking, I was proud that they defended their rights to a good breakfast.

How dare those scandalous punks attempt to strip other college students of their most important meal? Don't they know that the only thing worse than a cereal stealer is a cereal killer? (and not by a longshot.)

I mean put it like this: studies show that a student who eats before class is more attentive, and a kid who eats a good meal before a test will get a higher score; thus, it can be logically assumed, that stealing their breakfast was not only a violation of their right to a meal, but it was also the attempted theft of their academic success.

Its times like these that I appreciate the 2nd amendment.

If a mothafucka tries to take my cereal, I'll bust a cap in his ass! I'll kick him in his balls! I'll eat is children! I'll throw his morbidly obese mama down the stairs! I'll--ok you get the sarcasm.

Bro, its just cereal. It's not your grandmothers urn or your pet dog...

If any of you guys who committed this act of cereal hyperbolization happen to come across this blog, I want to thank you for an amazing and idiotic evening. I hope you enjoyed that hard earned bowl of cereal the next morning, and I hope you all get some rational thinking counsoling.

For crying out loud, you guys were ready to brawl over some cereal.

But, as idiotic and irrational as it may seem, I suppose there is a moral of this story--

Dude, don't fuck with the Captain.

HELLAQUESTION: WHAT WOULD YOU DO IF A MOTHAFUCKA STOLE YO' FAVORITE CEREAL?

--HellaCollege--