Intervention held for non-drinking roommate

Concerned students at the University of Wisconsin-Superior banded together Sunday to hold a much-needed intervention for freshman Glen Darkins. After nearly a month on campus, Darkins has not consumed a single drop of alcohol.

“Glen, your non-alcoholism has been hurtful to me for a long time now,” said Kenny Lantus, Darkins’ roommate for the past four weeks. “When I return to the room on Friday afternoons after my last class, you’re not drunk. When we all head out at 8am on a Saturday to scope the women’s lacrosse practice, you’re not drunk. When I’m drunk, you’re not drunk! You try to hide it, but I can see the sobriety in your eyes, which are alert and not cloudy. I see it in your speech, which is not slurred. I hate seeing you like this, Glen. Please, I beg you. Let us help. You need to start drinking before it tears this entire dorm apart.”

At this point, Darkins’ girlfriend began loudly sobbing.

“I’m sorry, Glen,” said Jackie Thompson, who has been dating Darkins for one week. “I thought I could hold it together. It’s just so hard to deal with you when you’re sober. You’re rational and logical, and everything you do is careful and well thought out. I hate sober Glen! I hate that horrible side of you! I’m trying to be a supportive girlfriend, but when I come home late at night to find you quietly reading a book, sober and polite, sometimes I just crawl under the covers and cry. Fuck you for putting me through that, Glen! Fuck you and your straight edge bullshit!”

Other friends took on the bad cop role of the intervention.

“What do you wanna do with your life, Glen? Answer me, goddamn it!” shouted varsity track captain Jake Ryan, taking on a fatherly role. “If you don’t drink, how are you going to get a job? Who the hell do you think is going to hire you? This isn’t 1950! You don’t find a career by sending out resumes and searching through classified ads. You drink heavily in college with as many people as possible, and then when one of them becomes successful years later, they hire all the drunks who got them laid back in school. That’s how the world works. If you don’t start drinking, you’re going to ruin your future!”

Ryan is not incorrect. From freshman orientation, to extracurricular activities like theater or sporting events, to alumni gatherings decades down the road, nearly every aspect of the academic world is fueled entirely by booze. College attendees across the nation rightfully believe that education and personal improvement are only tolerable if part of the brain is dulled with liquor.

Darkins’ responses to the heartfelt pleas were typical of a non-addict who is deep in denial.

“Things are fine,” lied Darkins, his eyes shiftily moving from side to side. “I’ve never really liked the taste of alcohol, and I don’t like how I act when I’m drinking. My family actually has a long history of alcoholism, so I’ve made a conscious choice to stay away from it.”

“I’m proud of you, bro,” said Todd Ly, the Resident Advisor for Darkins’ dorm floor. “The first step is admitting you have a problem. Now that we know you’re a giant sissy whose balls haven’t dropped yet, we can work on fixing you.”

The plan to get Darkins back on track is a time-honored process that has been used to reverse-rehab non-drinkers for decades. First, the subject is introduced to ciders and fruity mixed drinks, using familiar flavors like apple and strawberry to mask the taste of alcohol. This allows them to become accustomed to the gleeful joy of being inebriated, and implants in their psyche a subtle yet forever growing interest in getting plastered and urinating upon things. After a few weeks of letting their palette adjust, the subject is moved on to watered down beers like Busch Light that taste terrible, but are able to be consumed quickly and much more cheaply. Intermediaries like Bud Light with Lime may be employed if necessary. Once the subject’s desire to figuratively “let one’s dick loose” becomes greater than the objectionable taste, the individual is slowly introduced to hard liquor like whiskey and bourbon. The relative speed of these new options will outweigh the lack of sugary flavorings. Throw in some mediocre, clumsy sexual experiences and a pack of obnoxious compatriots to keep the subject within ranks and motivated, and the transformation from normal human being to Wisconsinite is complete.

Sadly, not all conversions are effective. The intervention for Darkins turned to chaos roughly an hour into it, when he mentioned he’s also thinking about turning vegan.

“You worthless piece of shit!” exclaimed Lenny Froman, Darkins’ best friend since the first grade, who was bussed in by alumni to take part. “Don’t you turn your back on Wisconsin! If you don’t start acting like everyone else in this God-forsaken armpit of a state, then you’ll spend the rest of your life as a middle manager at a telemarketing company, just like 70 percent of all college graduates!”

At the time of printing, Darkins confided that he still has no desire to drink, and he can’t wait to “escape this Axe body spray fueled looney bin” so he can start his real life.