Quiet Hours

It's 2:31am, Sunday morning. After finishing two movies and attempting to record music with Michelle, Eric, James, Pete, and I are all asking ourselves why we continuously stay up late and do stuff like we do. It's fun, I said. We all agree.

So, what happened that had great significance to our after quiet hours nightly revels. One, we found one of Eric's cookies in one of the stalls in the bathroom. We started flinging it around the floor like a hockey puck, and eventually tossed it into the stall occupied by Noah, another freshman. Then the one upperclassman who is present in the bathroom-- Tyler, dared Eric to eat the cookie for $5 of change. Eric didn't do it. Apparently he doesn't like rock-hard, germ-infested, hockey-puck snicker doodles.

With all this hullabaloo starting to unfold, Pete mentioned it being late, and seeing the clock, I ran out of the bathroom and into his room, where, fully dressed, I hopped into his bed and got all snuggled in. Pete came in and mockingly threatened the survival of my future children, so I thought it best to make my exit.

I opened the door, and lo and behold, I saw James (my roommate) and Eric (the cookie keeper) standing outside the door in the hallway. Sort of. James is standing, but Eric is lying on the ground with his arms wrapped around James' leg.
Yeah. Weird. That's what I thought.

So, seizing the opportunity to cause a little trouble, I took my water bottle, which I had been holding the whole time, and poured the remaining two inches of water all over the prostrate Eric. With a lurch, he leapt up and hurled himself at me, ramming my stomach with his head and shoulders. I, sensing this happening (in more ways than one, let me tell you) rode out the blow, and leaned over him, as to spread my weight out and not let him succeed in flipping me on my back. then, after regaining my footing, I sat down, with my arms bear hugging Eric's torso, his head in my side and his arms wrapped around my waist. Then, he played dirty, and tickled me.
Yeah.
Not cool.
I'm really ticklish.

I let go, and somehow escaped his ravenous onslaught. It may sound silly and slightly disturbing that 19 year old guys are tickling each other, but hey. Whatever you have to do to get the upper hand in an impromptu wrestling match.

At this point, Minha, one of the Koreans on our floor, comes staggering out of his room (which was coincidentally right next to where we were fighting), looked at all of us with a confused and sleep-filled look in his eye, and told us in a groggy voice:

"Its quiet hours, guys"