Jack MacNamara

Before I begin this week’s installment, I’d just like to take a few inches of print space to wish my friend, housemate and former FUSA presidential candidate, Kyle Duggan, a very happy 21st birthday. Kyle: at last you can celebrate a set of circumstances in which number 2 is placed before number 1. Zing!

Moving on, I was in the city for a night this past weekend visiting some alumni friends (including one named Tony da Costa, who asked I subtly mention him in this column. Request denied, Tony).  When I came back the day after, I found my townhouse was full of its residents; my housemates Zach, Nick, Kyle, Preble and Pat were present.

I had walked into a conversation already in progress and, when I arrived, Pat started chuckling and jogged towards the stairs.

“Hey, wait here, I want to do something real quick,” he said as he ran past me.

Immediately after ascending a flight, he stomped back down, halted at the landing and gave Zach the same kind of look I imagine a pregnant cow would give a field of grass. That’s when Pat screamed.
“BWOO-AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!” He tore at Zach like a knuckleball out of the mitt.

Pause. To put this in the proper context, one needs to know Pat is essentially an albino version of the Jolly Green Giant. He could probably stomp you out if he wanted, but once you get to know him you realize all he really wants to do is be your friend, promote proper nutrition and wear a toga made out of leaves.

His RA photo in one of the townhouse laundry rooms refers to him as “The Impact,” which would be a terrifying nickname were it not located in the place where one is encouraged to wash their unmentionables with products named ‘Snuggle’ and ‘Cheer.’ Nevertheless, I had always joked that, one day, Pat was going to get rabies, the Rage Virus or a serious case of the grumplestiltskins, and then he would kill us all. Wouldn’t you know it, I was about to be proven right.

Unpause. With shutter-quick speed, Pat latched onto Zach, threw him to the ground and moved TO BITE A CHUNK OUT HIM. When Pat got back up, he just left Zach lying there. No one else in the house, least of all myself, knew what to do. This was all more the case when Zach himself inexplicably stood up with the same look Pat had on earlier; another pregnant cow looking at all the grass. Zach bolted towards Kyle. Pat ran at Nick. I had no escape route. Then they all started giggling.

“I love that so much!”

“Yeah, it’s like I said last night: Zombie Pat is terrifying!”

“Wait, wait, wait, I wanna do it again!”

This repeated about a thousand times before I went to bed. In other houses, I understand they play Scrabble.

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