The Lion King

It was yet another typical, triflin ass, on the couch friday. We had assembled our "hella college crew" (the group of men most likely to be, or to call out, a hella college moment) and one drunk ass freshman chick (what's a group of men without one?).

We then began chatting about adolesent nothings and insulting one another until one guy brought up the fact that the lion king musical is coming to town:

Frat dick number one: bro, did you hear about the Lion King coming to Portland this summer?

Frat dick number two: WHAT?!!! Bro no way! We're going!!

Frat dick number one: YEAH MOTHAFUCKA!!(stands up and gives #2 a high five)

Frat dick number two: We're gonna get so high! Just fucked up watching Lion King!!

Frat dick number one: HELL YEAH!!! MY HOMEBOY CAN HOOK US UP!!!

Frat dicks 3+4:(sycronized laughter)

I laughed on the outside, but I was hurt internally--the integrity of lion king, and its sociological value, were shattered by the juvinile mentalities of these individuals.

How can we decifer the themes of jealousy, optimism and friendship in Lion King--high as a prepubesent nutsack? How can you appreciate the delicate and intricate love story between Simba and Nala suffering from a canibus attack? You can't even feel the pain of mufasa's death--the most tragic death in disney history! They're such bastards! You can't go to Lion King under the influence!

Freaking idiots.

I hope their weed is laced with laxatives and crushed up sleeping pills so they can pass out and shit themselves at the show.

They'd say it was a crappy perfomance.

Hacunamutata. Hella College.