Note: This serial is fictional.
“Kong. Bar Review. Tonight. You’re going.”
Fenno glanced up at Chevy, who had just strolled into the common room with his demanding-face on. The two had met a few weeks back, when Fenno had sacrificed knee-skin to save Chevy from an oncoming Lesley skater; since then, the elder Chevy (sleepwalking through his last year) had taken the 1L under his wing.
“Man, I don’t understand that bar. Why would anyone bother? Last time I was there, I lost a good shoe—stuck to the floor, never could get it free.”
“What, do you have some crucial CRUPAC’ing to do or something? Don’t care. No time to argue. I’m headed to a pre-pre-pregame.”
“It’s 10:45. In the morning. On a weekday. And I’m not going unless you can give me a single reason to head to that bar instead of drinking cleaning solution.”
“Just take a look at the Guide entry. I think I wrote that one.”
Chevy grimaced, grabbed Fenno’s phone off the couch, and started tapping away.
“Here. The First-Year’s Guide to the Law School. Read up; there’s a bucket of gin waiting for me.”
Chevy tossed the phone back to Fenno and wandered down the hallway in search of potable. The first-year looked at his phone, which was displaying the purchase page for the $0.98 Guide app. The other suggested apps on the page were all at least $0.99, so Fenno took the plunge.
The First-Year’s Guide to the Law School was a most remarkable app, containing everything a bushy-tailed liberal arts kid needed to know to survive 1L in Cambridge. Some of the entries were even factually accurate. The Guide had come to dominate the app-store market for such things, crushing the competition led by the Encyclopaedia Cambridgia for two main reasons: For one, it was slightly cheaper. For two, the home-screen icon was helpfully emblazoned with one block-lettered word: “PANIC.” (If there’s anything a 1L’s good at, it’s panic.)
Fenno searched for “The Kong.” The entry lit up his screen.
The place where every night seems to end. Teams of Cambridge’s finest scientific minds continue to study the strange, gravity-like pull of The Kong, a pull fully active only after 11:30 or so, but each time they end up so hammered that they have to repeat their research again the next night. The current team has been working seven nights a week since 2001; as of this writing, they have made no progress.
Fenno tapped the “Layout” link.
Three floors. The ground-floor restaurant is a fine place to punish yourself for any wrongs you have/will have committed in any present, past, or future life. Kong “food” is currently considered an illegal torture device by every nation except North Korea and the United States. Try the wontons.
The second floor, best as anyone can tell, is devoted solely to standing in line for the third floor. While you wait, be sure to enjoy a Scorpion Bowl or five—the contents of the Bowl remain a mystery, though in recent times a consensus has formed that the recipe involves some combination of turpentine and Juicy Juice.
The third floor had its own sub-entry.
You might have thought hell was underground. Think again. The Kong’s third floor is the perfect place to ease your burden if you tire of carrying your dignity around all day. The strange, viscous substance coating the floor is the envy of defense contractors around the globe, all of whom are seeking a more tightly gripping polymer with which to bind warheads to missiles. The third floor remains Harvard Square’s premier destination for listening to horrid music while watching people “dance” like they’re trying to rid themselves of subcutaneous parasites. Highly recommended.
Fenno pulled up the “Bar Review” page next.
Nine out of ten people who own Two and a Half Men on DVD agree that the “Bar Review” name is still a hilarious pun. The HL Central-run event regularly devolves into a mad scramble for precious drink tickets, which confer upon their holders the power to not bother tipping bartenders. A must-attend for anyone who has to sit through Torts.
Next he tried searching “HL Central,” but the Guide only returned an “ENTRY NOT FOUND” page. Fenno shrugged. Chevy was right: he had to go to the Kong tonight.
“Fenno” is a fictional serial written by an anonymous law student. The main character is always named Fenno and is always a 1L, but his or her character changes every school year. This installation is part of the series for the 2012-13 School Year, entitled “Fenno: Mostly Harmless.”
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