m i c h e l l e d o v e
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from Radio Cacophony |
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My roommate says on the one hand she really does want to like riot grrrl bands but, on the other hand, she doesn't want to seem too feminist and inadvertently give the boys she meets the wrong idea. I put five canonical riot grrrl bands in the CD changer and hit random. We pour ourselves vodka oranges because even in our second semester of college it's the classiest mixed drink we dare to make. After five minutes it's clear she cannot lie on her bunk and stare at the ceiling and just listen. She says she met a boy in her chemistry intro who's pledging to Delta Upsilon. She says he asked her what her favorite type of food is and she said Chinese, what her favorite band is and she said duh, Dave Matthews, hands down, what her favorite type of liquor is and she said vodka. She's still talking when I finally understand the difference between Bikini Kill and Huggy Bear. When my roommate gets dressed to meet the boy in her chemistry intro at the dining hall, I turn up the volume to an ungodly level. I can see in the mirror that she looks disgusted. When she returns after midnight, visibly smitten with new love, I am drunk enough to admit that I listened to the records three times each. Yet I am sober enough to know that by three I really mean four. |
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After many drinks the Librarian confesses that the other guy had more experience than me. He says, He's a business major, for chrissake! On the one hand, I'm elated. I was always decent at algebra. On the other hand, I'm nervous. I don't know the first thing about business, let alone managing. The bartender is a fan of the radio station even though he absolutely, one-hundred percent hates Kevin-and-Kevin's morning show. He pours us a round of shots. To the blues! we all shout. To the blues! It's only then that I notice my freshman roommate drinking what looks like vodka cranberries in a back booth with her new boyfriend. Impulsively, I take my shot and when the bartender's pouring another round I leave through the side door before I or my old roommate can infect each other's new lives in ways we may or may not later regret. Days later when I run into my old roommate across the student commons, I realize our meeting again is inevitable. And don't I want to be the bigger person? I call out her name and wave, but when she doesn't immediately turn around, I instinctively crouch down and lower my head and pretend I am just some anonymous person stopping to tie her shoe. |
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In efforts to make the mandatory organizational meeting seem less dull, we call the meeting our Semi-annual Orgy. We post graphic images announcing the mandatory orgy to all deejays. To recruit new deejay apprentices, we stand outside the student commons and pass out lewd flyers to the Year's Best Orgy. To combat our nervousness, we down countless shots of whiskey on the day of the meeting before standing in front of the large crowd that has gathered. We introduce ourselves as if we're part of a production company that films pornos. We pass around a sign-in sheet for current deejays and a sign-up sheet for new blood. Only after the meeting when a busty girl comes forward to show us her cleavage tattoos and nipple piercings do we realize that our joke has gone too far. The Program Director quits on spot, citing that he doesn't have any real potential apprentices for the AM frequency and therefore will fail at his recruitment responsibilities. Years later when I am walking home late at night in a robust city district, I am handed a flyer to what appears to be an actual orgy. I am reminded that years earlier I was too drunk at the fake orgy to care about everything that went wrong. |
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MICHELLE DOVE's fiction appears or is forthcoming in Chicago Review, Passages North, The Southeast Review, Pear Noir!, Barrelhouse, and elsewhere. She lives in Washington, DC. |
a l i c e b l u e t w e n t y - t w o I S S N 1 5 5 9 - 6 5 6 7 |