Who Needs Love When You're Reborn?

Chapter 5 Trojan Hot Dog

At the Sigma Alpha Epsilon fraternity’s lawn party, football captain Tyler was trying to intoxicate a small donkey with a beer pump— their latest hazing ritual said to pay homage to Wall Street wolves.

"Stop! That’s animal abuse!" Greg shouted, brandishing a student council protest sign as he rushed in, only to be hit on the back of the head by a frisbee slathered in peanut butter. Stumbling, he fell into an inflatable pool while Jason hid under a parasol, editing his business plan.

"You should join an animal rights group," Jason said without looking up, "instead of waving a sign that says ‘SAE are stupid donkeys’ to provoke real donkeys."

Greg spat out a lemon slice from his mouth. "But you said you were going to sabotage their mattress acquisition plan!"

"That’s why I hid the tracker here," Jason replied, lifting a hot dog sausage as a miniature bugging device flickered in the mustard, "Tyler’s old man’s food company is bidding for the school cafeteria next week, and they’re going to leak the price at the party."

Both of them turned toward the drunken SAE members by the grill. Tyler was tucking confidential documents under a hamburger patty while bragging to an accounting major, "My family’s kickbacks to the school are higher than your GPA!"

"Hooked," Jason said as he pressed his recording pen. "Now we need a total airhead to swap out that patty."

Greg looked down at his protest T-shirt, smeared with mayonnaise. "Why is it always me?"

"Because even if you get caught, they’ll think you’re out searching for a missing alpaca."

In the business school café, Vivian Foster was using a law textbook as a makeshift coaster for her latte. When she “accidentally” knocked over Jason’s iced Americano for the eighth time, her wrist was finally grabbed.

"Miss Foster, under Anti-Harassment Law Section 3…" Jason waved a coffee-soaked contract, "you owe me compensation along with that supply agreement with Walmart."

"Really?" Vivian replied, pulling out documents stuck with gummy fruit candies from her Chanel bag. "Then how do you explain finding my school cafeteria procurement list at Greg’s farm equipment store?"

Their standoff was abruptly interrupted by Holly. The Vietnamese girl, clutching a signed football from the team, landed squarely between them. "Ladies and gents, want to place a bet? I just set up an outside wager—whether Jason’s hot dog bugging scheme will make Tyler have diarrhea."

"How do you know..." Jason suddenly grew alert.

"Because the German sausages you’re using come from Tyson Foods," Holly said while licking a lollipop, "and I just anonymously sent the quality report to the FDA."

Vivian snorted. "No wonder the cafeteria pulled all the pork products today." She suddenly pressed Jason’s tie into a coffee stain. "By the way, the Bitcoin wallet you hid in the library’s 'Wealth of Nations'—the password is ‘ILovePizza’, right?"

At that moment, Jason’s phone rang. Greg’s cry for help mixed with braying came through: "SAE people have blocked the men's room! They’re saying I have to marry a donkey!"

Jason grabbed a dinner knife and stood up, only to be had his head clutched by Holly’s baseball cap. "Calm down, little Italian cannon—I’ve got a better idea." She whistled out the window, and the entire cheer squad suddenly stormed into the café, wrapping Jason in a sea of pink pom-poms.

"Now, change into a skirt and come rescue your little lamb," Holly said, grinning like a cat that’d just stolen a salmon.

In the SAE house’s men's room, the sound of donkey hooves on tiled floors echoed. Greg was tied to a toilet while Tyler, dressed in a priest’s robe with a Bible taped to a steak knife as a makeshift crucifix, stood before him.

"In the name of the Father, I now pronounce you…" Tyler’s proclamation was cut off by the sound of the door being kicked in. Twelve cheerleaders flooded in, and at the center, a “blonde beauty” whipped off her wig—revealing Jason with smoky makeup drawn on.

"Hey, sweethearts!" he squeaked in a fake voice. "I heard there was a singles party here?"

The SAE members were collectively stunned. Tyler’s hamburger patty fell to the floor and was promptly gulped down by an actual donkey that had barged in. In the ensuing chaos, Greg broke free from his ropes, grabbed the hot dog sausage concealing the bug, and leaped out the window.

"Catch that Italian!" Tyler’s roar was drowned out by the cheerleaders’ jubilation. Jason ran, ripping off his false eyelashes, and shouted into his earpiece, "Did you get the recording?"

"Not only that!" Greg laughed breathlessly, "the donkey just completed its ‘initiation ritual’ on Tyler’s sports car!"

Later that night at the entrepreneurship club, the trio burst into laughter while listening to the recording. On the tape, Tyler’s old man said, "The kickbacks for the principal are hidden in the frozen meat container, customs code ‘Sexy Babe Figurine’."

"That’s enough to make SAE drop out of the bid," Jason said as he forwarded the evidence email to the principal’s office. "But how did Holly know the Bitcoin password?"

Vivian suddenly slammed a box of pizza onto the table. "Because your restaurant’s takeout order said ‘ILovePizza = Lifetime 20% Off’." She pulled out the bottom pizza, "and your grandfather hid the key to the cold chain warehouse in the pizza box’s flap."

Greg mumbled through chewed cold salami, "So who do we target next?"

"You," Jason said suddenly, pointing a laser pen at him, "tomorrow, go be the best man for that donkey—Tyler’s wedding invitations are already all over Instagram."

A phone screen lit up with the trending hashtag #SAEYoungMasterAndTheDonkeyWedding. The three watched as Greg’s face turned instantly pale before they all burst into uncontrollable laughter.

Outside, the bronze bull statue still hung a mocking “Just Married” sign, and the real war was only just beginning.