I Woke Up and My Butt Print was on the Fence
When I opened my eyes that fateful morning, I saw evidence of last night’s rager all over the room. It looked like your average CMU party. Beakers of titrated Hennessy littered the kitchen table. Kilts were strewn about on the ground, some with accompanying pairs of tartan underwear. Someone cuddled on the couch with a monitor depicting Tank’s sleeping face. I tried to parse my fuzzy memories, but I had no idea how I ended up there.
When I stood up, I felt a cool breeze hit the back of my legs. It struck me as strange, considering I wasn’t a kilt person. I looked down and realized I had no bottoms on. The memories came rushing back in an instant. I ran to the bathroom and looked at my butt in the mirror. Just as I had suspected, it was covered in bright red paint.
I scrubbed it off, stole a pair of pants from the host, and did the walk of shame back to my dorm. For most of my journey, I remained lost in thought, wondering when my drunken behavior would come back to haunt me like the vengeful ghosts in Hamerschlag Hall. I didn’t have to wonder for long. When I walked by the Fence, I noticed that it had a fresh coat of paint—complete with the shape of my posterior rendered in striking vermilion.
My face turned the same color. I buried my head in shame and ran into Doherty Hall, but I couldn’t escape it. People were already talking about the mysterious artist. They coined all sorts of names. “Backside Banksy”. “Leonardo da Vincheek”. “Pablo PicASSo”.
I was certain I’d be ruined once they found out it was me. My reputation would be compromised. My family would shun me. My job prospects would disappear. I felt better once I remembered I had no job prospects to lose, but anxiety still raced through me. I cowered in a bathroom stall.
After a while, I overheard two girls talking about the butt print. One of them complimented the beautiful, pear like silhouette while the other extolled the firm, yet elastic nature of the cheeks. One even inquired about the artist’s glute routine (which, if you’re curious, consists of walking up and down the Scott Hall stairs looking for Wild Blue). My entire day turned around. I left the bathroom stall determined to embrace my new life as an artist. I am proud to announce that my first exhibit, “Moon Over Pittsburgh”, will open at the Carnegie Museum this spring.