Basement Billiards
The sun was about to set over the long row of fraternities and sororities, disappearing behind the peak of the triangular roof of Sigma Mu. At the opposite end of the street, looking west toward the setting sun through a window of the upper floors of the Kappa Eta Omicron house, a panther slowly shook his head. "What's going on, Gus? Is it us?" His fur was black everywhere, and he often wore his shirts open to display that fact. It was one of several habits he had picked up over the years in the fraternity.
"Only two good pledges: the lion and the wolf," he muttered. He turned to a large bear. "Gus, did Sigma Manure fill up quick this year? We've got that fox, who would normally be bad enough. But at least he's a decent carnivore!" He held up the scrap of paper he'd been waving around angrily for the past hour. "But this year we have a goat, a bull, and a deer! Don't they know better? Birds pledge Delta, domestics pledge Zeta, the big carnivores pledge here or Gamma or Alpha, and Stinker Moo is for the herd." He swore to himself, shaking his head and stared at Sigma Mu as the sun sank out of view. "This is a big carnivore house, they belong over at Sigma Mu. They should know that!"
"Yes," said Gus, scratching his chest and pausing to finish his beer. He was a brown bear, with a reputation for staying quiet and out of trouble as long as someone could see him. He was notorious for knowing several brewers of moonshine, whose beverages he would sneak into classes. This no doubt helped him keep up the reputation for staying quiet. He sighed heavily, stretching out the tight shirt he was wearing. "So you keep saying. By the way, there are two deer, Ronnie. Someone new, he showed up yesterday. That makes seven total. I think Sigma Mu was interested in him but he turned them down."
Ronnie shook his head and snorted; he didn't dignify the thought of a buck who acted as though he was too good for the Sigma house with a response. "I need a drink so gawddamn bad, Gus. Two of them? Well, it's obvious that we can't let them make it through initiation. Steps will have to be taken. The fox, what's his name?"
"Frank J something. Jaspers? I forget. And it won't be the end of the world. I mean, we let Platy John in two years ago, he was a good pick."
Ronnie hissed and paced back and forth, refusing to look out the window in the direction of the Sigma house again. Gus could tell he wasn't in a mood to listen to reason. The panther muttered and spit until Gus got him another jar of whiskey, which he sipped daintily.
"We need to have a plan, Gus." He sipped again, then put the jar down as though forgotten. "We need to take steps. They can't make it through initiation."
"Why don't I talk to Platy John," the bear said as he wandered through the door. "He's a perverse, sneaky asshole; he might be able to think of something."
The door to John's room wasn't quite open, but it wasn't quite closed. So Gus ambled through with a "hello" to find the relatively tiny platypus sprawled out on his bed with a pretty little dog from their sister house, Chi Delta, quickly withdrawing her hand from his pants and looking up to see who it was. She didn't exactly look embarrassed, but she didn't go back to what she had been doing, either. She was a regular around here, Gus recognized her but didn't know her name.
The TV was loud, and Platy John's eyes were closed, so Gus spoke louder. "John! We need you."
The platypus sat up, and turned down the sound on the TV. Patting the dog's arm he said "Take a walk, Sal. Bring your friend back! She was cute."
Gus leaned to the side to let the bitch pass, and said "We need to talk about initiation tonight."
There was an angry shout from behind him, a sharp slapping sound, and then Ronnie's whiny voice calling after Sal as the panther made his way into the frame of the door behind the bear. "Geez, John! They're always so pissed coming out of here, but you keep them coming back. What's your secret?"
"Novel anatomy," Platy John said as he pulled the tab from a beer kept in a cooler under the bed. "What's this about initiation, now? I'm a junior, I take that on next year."
"We don't want four of this set of pledges to make it," Gus said. "Possibly five of them. There's a goat, two bucks, a bull; and maybe the fox shouldn't make the cut. We've also got a lion and a wolf, they're probably fine. We need a way to be selective without appearing too selective, so the poor grass-munchers don't go bleating to the dean."
"Hey," Ronnie pointed at the TV. "We should make an obstacle course like on this TV show. Make them run through it, but make the stunts so wild that nobody can do it."
"Yeah," Platy John said. "All we need to do is build the course in...what? Two hours? Better get busy, dumbass."
Ronnie snarled but didn't say anything. He began flipping through channels, mumbling "Stupid throwback egg-laying mammals. I'll tell you what, I-"
"Now Ronnie, we talked about slurs." Gus sat on the edge of Platy John's bed and began a long practiced, often used speech. "We're all brothers here, and-"
"Wait," said Platy John. "Go back a few."
Ronnie obeyed, stopping at a billiards tournament.
"You know, you've given me a neat idea, Ronnie." Platy John sat up and rubbed his hands together. "Clear out the basement and pull out the pool tables."
The two remaining hours before the initiation ceremonies passed slowly. The group of seven pledges arrived and sat quietly: Frank the fox; Willie the goat; and the two bucks, Stan and Jake the newcomer; the bull, Rasmus; Mike the wolf; and Kyle the lion. They had gathered in the sitting room of the fraternity and waited. Most were too tense to even engage in idle chat; they kept watching Ronnie walk back and forth in the hallway, cackling and staring at them as he passed.
They were dressed as if coming for a job interview. Frank looked like most foxes; eyes constantly scanning the room, with a mixture of trickiness and nervousness that only vulpines and some small felines could pull off. Willie's little beard was trimmed, and he had spent some time polishing his horns and hoped nobody would notice the left one had a slight crack. Stan's antlers were cropped close to his head, while Jake's spread out in an eye-catching, but sometimes inconvenient, display. Mike was the only one not wearing a pledge pin; he had hoped to wear it as an ear piercing but his girlfriend had ripped it out that afternoon when she saw it, telling him it made him look like a fag. Kyle was the only one not overly discomfited by Ronnie's pacing and giggling; perhaps it was a big cat thing understood only by the lion and the panther, the others thought to themselves.
A mantle clock struck the top of the hour, and a large hooded bear appeared. "Hello, pledges," Gus said. "We invite you to play a little game with us. Please follow me to the basement."
"The basement!" Willie jumped up. "We've never been down there!"
"Idiot," Ronnie said as he appeared from behind Gus. "It's for members only, so of course you haven't been down there."
"So, does that mean we're in?" Frank looked hopeful, and licked his lips nervously.
"Not so fast! That's what we're going to find out," Ronnie said as they descended to the basement. "Now, there are seven of you. Not everyone who rushes a house makes it, you know that." He gave Jake a meaningful and slightly contemptuous look. "We're going to have a little tournament; a pool tournament."
An older wolf who had never spoken to the pledges before nodded and stepped forward from the shadows. He unrolled a parchment, and said "Welcome! I'm Wolfy John. We've drawn up some brackets. Get your cues and start playing. It's normal 8 ball, call your shots, and speaking of shots, you need to down one every time you miss. The winner faces off against me. The losers...well, you'll see. Before starting up, have a drink! Or two! For luck, pledges."
Kyle had a bye in the first round, so he emptied his glass as the other six squared off against each other. The games ensued, and so did the drinking.
Platy John and Gus supervised in the background, refreshing platters of drinks as the seven players pitted their somewhat lackluster skills against each other. Gus slipped the platypus a jar of his secret stash.
John swirled it around for a while. "I don't know why Ronnie has such a hardon for them," the platypus finally said. "They're herbivores; so what? I thought all that nonsense went out of style several generations ago."
"Having second thoughts about driving them out?"
"Hell no! I want to watch this," the platypus laughed. Another game came to its conclusion, with Kyle coming out ahead. "It figures Ronnie'd pick the other cat to come out of this relatively clean. A pass in the first round, and he's personally handling over the unspiked drinks. Maybe I should ask if I'm invited to the wedding."
They approached the gamers and watched; Jake was playing Rasmus, and the pair seemed to be relatively chummy. The tournament dragged on longer and longer, as the players became more and more intoxicated, until Wolfy John stopped the game. "Doesn't matter who loses this; as Kyle's already got more wins than any of you can rack up. You're all up for the big special event. Off to the other room with you; you'll find our outfits there."
The drunken fox, wolf, bucks and bull stumbled away as Kyle swayed back and forth, almost too far gone to stand up and walk a straight line. "What now," the lion asked. "Is it over? I want to rest."
"Oh no," Platy John said. "We're just beginning. This is Chicken Pool."
The rest of the pledges came back into the room wearing nothing but towels, and looking as intoxicated as Kyle. "Pick a hole, boys," the platypus said. "Around the table, you'll find a stool to sit on. Hop on up! Any hole, claim it as your own. Now Kyle-we have a proposition for you. Play a game with Wolfy John, here, but I think we're done drinking. We're moving on to the next phase.
"In chicken pool, invented by brother Ronnie and inspired by myself, you guys are the holes. If a ball goes into your pocket, we're shoving it up your ass."
The pledges looked at the platypus in drunken shock, and Kyle started to ask something before Wolfy John shook him by the shoulder.
Ronnie produced a big can of lard, borrowed from the kitchen. "Don't worry, it won't be too rough on you! But don't you dare shit 'em back on the table or on the floor, or you're out!"
Frank whimpered and looked like he wanted to leave, but since he was wearing only a towel, and was hemmed in by several other members of the fraternity who had begun to gather in the basement, he stayed put. "Modesty at a time like this," Gus laughed. "Well, boys. I'll flip a coin, you call it to see who gets to break."
It came up heads, but Kyle was still shocked and trying too hard not to look at his fellow pledges to even make a call, let alone keep track of who won, so Wolfy John broke. The six ball rolled closer and closer to the left corner pocket, over which Rasmus the bull perched. The ball slowed down, teetered on the edge, and then fell in.
"Ha ha! Ready, Mr. Moo?" Ronnie reached into the pocket and swirled the ball around in the lard. "Assume the position!"
Rasmus seemed strangely calm as he stood, resting his hands on the billiard table and leaning forward. Ronnie pulled the bull's tail out of the way, and pushed the ball against the bovine's puckered ring. Twisting the ball back and forth, he listened to the bull breathing and looked around the room at the other pledges. Giving them each a private grin, he forced the ball in slowly as the bull grunted and winced, tensing up because of the speed of insertion.
"Take it easy," Rasmus said as he stood and sat back down on the stool. "They'll fit, there's no need to rip us up."
"No sitting," Platy John said. "You've gotta squat on the stool. Attaboy! Now hold it in. That goes for all of you: if you get a ball, you've gotta squat on the stool!"
"Not the worst ceremony," Gus said to himself. "Stuffing things up their asses? I've seen worse, yes. I doubt I'll be telling anyone about this one, though."
Kyle took his shot, eliciting fearful moans from the other pledges. The balls rolled around on the table, none of them finding a home.
"Go easy on the wolf," Ronnie whispered to Wolfy John. "But spread the rest of the balls out evenly."
Wolfy John approached the table and shook his head. "Kyle, that was awful. Are you even trying? Oh, I see-you're protecting your fellow pledges! Very noble. But aren't you curious about what happens to you if you lose?"
He laughed as the lion gulped and shuddered, and surveyed the table. "I spy with my golden eye...a goat. Get ready for the seven!" Just as the wolf called it, the 7 ball rolled straight for the right corner pocket, and as an added bonus, the 13 spun out of control and headed for Jake.
The deer resisted the temptation to lean forward and blow on it, to keep it from getting closer. He fidgeted, watching the ball roll slower and slower as Ronnie cackled and headed over to Willie, lubing up the 7 ball. Jake looked up and caught Rasmus looking at him; they stared at each other just as number 13 dropped in, and Ronnie began inserting the 7 into Willie.
"Double feature," the panther almost screamed with glee. He leaned over Willie's back and said "I might have to hurry this along, buddy. Better relax!" He shoved the ball forcefully into the goat, making him cry out and almost jump forward.
Meanwhile, Jake continued looking over to Rasmus, who nodded slightly; they smiled. "Those two must know each other very well indeed," Gus thought to himself.
Jake assumed almost the same position as Rasmus, his large rack gently tapping against the side of the table as Ronnie giggled and larded up the ball before pressing it lightly against the top of Jake's tail. "Are you good enough for us, Jake? Can we count on you to carry your load?" With a laugh, he began ramming the ball up into Jake's rectum. The buck took it with barely a grunt.
"Ronnie's enjoying himself, I see." A new voice arrived on silent padded feet between Platy John and the bear. They turned and greeted Leo, a cheetah older than all of them. He was president of the fraternity, but spent most of his time in his room in a haze of drugs. He had just arrived, looking as if he had just woken up. "Was this his idea?"
"Not exactly," Platy John said. "It was mine, but he gave me the idea while he was ruining my afternoon date and cursing me out in my own room."
Leo was the last of the members of the house to descend. Everyone was here watching, drinking and laughing at Ronnie. "Maybe we should ask him if he wants to start a league of this," the platypus said as he sipped his drink. "He's a natural."
The game went on, and Wolfy John kept targeting Rasmus and Jake, who seemed to almost shrug off each insertion. They each had three balls inside, but it was Willie who caved in first. With a bleating cry, he tried to stand up on the stool but it was too late-there was a loud cracking sound as the ball fell from his cheeks, along with some lard and not a small amount of crap, onto the floor. "You're out! You're out! How dare you drop a load in our home, our house? Get out!" Ronnie went ballistic and roughly dragged the goat away to the next room to collect his things.
"Now we get to your job," Wolfy John said to Kyle. "I'm ahead. You've only got one ball into Jake's pocket, and I've got two in Rasmus, two in Jake, and had one in Willie. You're going to have to cover for him. Go clean up that mess and take over his pocket."
Kyle looked around for a few seconds. "But a paper towel, or a washcloth, or something?"
Wolfy John shook his head, and Gus said "Sorry. Gotta use your paws." He watched the pledges while Kyle worked. The other deer, Stan, seemed as nervous as the rest; the bear caught Wolfy John's gaze and nodded toward Stan. Kyle finished cleaning up after the Willie, almost crying now, and started to sit on the stool.
"No," Wolfy John said. "You're still playing. I think that pocket should be covered by Rasmus, since he's doing such a good job with the other corner pocket on that end. And put that ball back on the table. If a pocket has to retire, like poor Willie, all the balls go back into play. This isn't our good table, so it's fine.
"So! You've got the whole end of that table now, Mooby!" The wolf grinned and looked over the rest of the table. "And you, Stan. Stan, Stan, Stan. I haven't forgotten about you. Why don't we find good old number 7 a new home?"
Ronnie stood behind Stan, and sure enough the ball rolled straight into the pocket. Stan stood, shaking and breathing heavily with small moans, and whimpered as the panther began nudging his ass with the ball. "Loosen up," he growled at the buck. "That goat took it better than you did." Stan moaned, leaning forward as if to get away from the ball, so Ronnie gave the ball a sudden push. He laughed as the buck whimpered and the ball disappeared, then finished the latest in a long line of beers.
As he stood back, watching Stan begin to assume the perching squat on the stool, he looked at the fox and wolf on the other side. "Do they have one yet? There are enough to go around." He grinned as Mike slowly shook his head.
The platypus chuckled, and Gus whispered "Did that dumbass forget his own plan? He's really getting into this."
"What plan," Leo asked. "The plan to indulge in his secret ass-stuffing fetish? He's succeeding beyond our wildest dreams."
Wolfy John missed a shot, probably on purpose, and said to Kyle "You heard the panther! Do it for the house. Load up for Frank or Mike!"
"Um," Kyle said nervously and shook his mane. "I...uh, you. Mike. Here's one for you." He picked the 15, an easy shot, and sunk it.
Ronnie skipped to the other side of the table as Mike slowly stood, eyes closed, and bent forward across the table. The panther covered the ball with lard, and was about to insert the ball when Jake spoke up. "Nah, give it to me." I'll take his pocket. Send it over here. I'll do it for the house!"
Gus poked Platy John, who in a sudden fit of laughing was spraying beer from the end of his bill. Leo shook his head and started to say something, but Ronnie was far into the spectacle to listen. Either he was drunk, or he was enjoying himself way too much. "You got it!" He rushed over with the ball as Jake hopped down and bent over the table. He grimaced and stared at Rasmus as the ball went in; the grimace turned into a smile.
"Show-off," said Rasmus.
"And last, but not least, we have a fox in our midst," Wolfy John said to Kyle. "But don't tell me." He looked back and forth between Rasmus and Jake. "Are one of you gents going to cover for him, too? Think it over." He turned to Kyle and pointed his cue stick at Frank. "Shoot."
The lion lined up a shot but missed, which made the fox almost leap up with joy. "Your time will come," Wolfy John said. "Right now, as a matter of fact." He went after the same ball that Kyle had tried to sink; it wasn't really a game anymore.
Frank whined and shook his head as the ball fell into the pocket. "No, I don't want to pledge anymore! I don't want to be a pledge! I don't want to be your brother!" He leaped from the stool and ran from Ronnie, who was grinning like a maniac and carrying the ball with the lard. The fox cried and pushed past the assembled fraternity members, into the next room where their clothes waited.
"Oh, give it here," Jake said.
"Now that's not fair," Rasmus stood. "His pocket's closer to me than to you. And you had your turn."
Kyle shook his head, and Wolfy John asked "It's just down to you two? Sick. Well," he said as he put down the cue. "We'll just go for the gusto. Bend over."
Ronnie returned from trying to chase down Frank after several of the watching observers directed him back. "You can really handle them, Rasmus. It's like you've done this before!" He shoved the ball up into the bull very slowly, grinning like an idiot. Rasmus took it with the merest shrug of his shoulders.
"More," Rasmus said. "Give me more." He grinned at Jake. "I guess we each get a few more, except for the one in Stan?"
"That's enough," Leo said. "It's over. We lost that goat, whoever he was...and Frankie? Oh well, didn't like the look of him anyway. It's done. We've got some new members. Let's break out the good stuff." He disappeared behind a counter, and began passing bottles up to the top as several of the brothers approached and began drinking. Stan made a beeline for the nearest bathroom, hobbling along with his cheeks clenched, tail held down and a desperate look on his face.
"Let's head out," Jake said to Rasmus. They mingled for a while, but slipped off to get their clothes and were seen only by Gus.
"Hey," he said to them as they began to ascend the staircase. "Come back tomorrow, and we'll figure out where your rooms will be. We can try to move you in over the winter break."
"Thanks," Jake said. Rasmus didn't look back. They left the house and walked down the road, past the campus and the dorms, to the cheap apartments where they currently lived.
"Gonna go back?" Rasmus patted the buck's shoulder.
"I don't know if I want to be in Kappa Eta after all," Jake said. "That panther guy seems like a creep. And that duckbilled guy, what's his story? I just don't know. Never seen a platypus before, he's a long way from home. And I noticed him checking you out, when you were bending over. I swear, what a bunch of perverts!" They both laughed.
They walked quietly for a while, before Rasmus asked "Speaking of checking out asses, how're you feeling? Ronnie wasn't exactly gentle."
"Well, neither are you, you big clumsy bull," Jake said and tapped his antlers against his friend's horns. "I'm fine. You?"
"Yup, fine. So, do we come back tomorrow?"
Jake stopped and shook his hips. "You know, out of courtesy, we should. We've still got some of their billiard balls."