#dum

This version is surely the most dazzling, but fine-tuning will take a long time. How about we just use the first one for now?

I honestly had to Google it. Where the hell did my dad get the idea that I’d ever want to study there? I mean, I’ve got offers from Stanford and Cambridge. And now he’s pushing Overland Park? Kansas. Seriously? Sure, it might’ve been the right place for him. He’s the definition of a corn-fed athlete—still broad as a barn door at 42, and my two younger brothers and I could hide behind that chest of his. The mullet’s a bit much, if you ask me. But hey, his customers seem to love it. His car dealership’s the biggest in the state. My little brothers? Both obsessed with engines and dreams of getting their MBAs right here in Overland Park. But me? I’m more into law. And Harvard would be the dream.

Anyway, for my 18th birthday, Dad got me a car. A Dodge RAM. Massive. Totally impractical. Definitely not my style. It came with a gas card and a mall voucher too. I’m hoping for something like Brooks Brothers, but let’s be real—it’s probably gonna be cowboy boots and flannel shirts. Still, I don’t wanna seem ungrateful. So yeah, I’m taking the trip out to Overland Park in that beast. And I’ll show my face at his alma mater’s orientation thing. But sign up? Not a chance in hell.

The drive wasn’t terrible, actually. I’ll admit the RAM is kinda comfortable, even if it feels like I’m steering a tank. But the closer I got to the Midwest, the more out of place I felt. Guys with biceps thicker than my thighs were asking about the truck at gas stations and rest stops. I had no clue how many horsepower it had. Still don’t care. But here? Your vehicle is your personality. Most of those muscle-heads clearly didn’t think I deserved the car. And when I pulled up at the hotel in Overland Park, the valet gave me a look like he pitied me. Tomorrow, I’m definitely taking the bus to campus.

I can’t believe how many people are into this mediocre-ass campus. The auditorium’s packed. The dean’s speech is as flat as the Kansas horizon. The faculty? Half of them look like they coach high school football, the other half like they mow the damn lawns. Each professor calls out students who signed up for their faculties. I didn’t check any boxes. Nothing here interests me. So with every round, more students leave. Eventually, the hall’s basically empty. Just three of us left: a redhead reading a book like he’s at a café, some skinny guy glued to his phone, and me.

I glance at the skinny guy. “No interest in Overland Park either?” He smirks. “God, no. I’m not gonna study thousands of miles from the nearest decent opera.” The redhead chimes in, “Or basically any place that counts as civilization.” We laugh. Turns out, we’ve got similar stories. Either our dads or brothers studied here. None of us are the sporty type. We’re more into art, music, culture. California or New England—that’s where we wanna be. Erik—the redhead—suggests we head outside. The sun’s out. Feels like a good call.

We’re sitting out on the grass, chatting, when we hear this voice coming from behind us:

“Yo! Found y’all at last, squad! Been grindin’ all over this campus to track down my bros!”

Heading straight for us is the walking embodiment of everything I hate about college stereotypes. He’s ripped. Sweaty. Wearing a filthy tank top. His mullet’s shoved under a backwards baseball cap. He’s carrying four bottles of beer like it’s some kind of offering.

“Yo yo yo, what up, fam! I’m Ryder. My professor bro said there’s three legends out here who ain’t exactly hyped about all that study shit. Guess what? Yours truly got assigned to show y’all the ropes. And by ropes, I mean how to chill, not hit the books. Ain’t nobody got time for that grind, bro. Let’s vibe!”

He smells strong. Not exactly pleasant. But there’s something… magnetic about it. He pops his beer open and holds it up. “Cheers.” Like we’re hypnotized, we open ours too. “Cheers.”

“Aight fam, time for a real-ass campus tour. Not that boring-ass library or whatever. Walk in there and you walk out lookin’ like some four-eyed sweater nerd. Nah, bro. We hittin’ up the real spots. Real vibes only!”

He laughs so hard at his own joke he nearly spills his beer. Erik laughs. Then fist bumps him. …Wait, what?

“Yo, see that cafeteria up ahead? That place’s sacred. Protein paradise, bro. Gotta feed the beast! You ain’t lived ‘til you’ve unleashed one of them nuclear protein farts!”

Right on cue—he lets one rip. Loud. Disgusting. Erik nearly chokes from laughing—and then farts back. …Wasn’t he the piano major?

Ryder vanishes inside and returns with four fresh beers. Ice cold. Tastes amazing. I take a deep swig and— BUUUURP. Ryder and Erik go nuts. Brayden looks like he wants to crawl into a bush.

“Brooo, real talk—protein farts take time. You gotta burp first, then bring the boom later!”

I get a high five from Ryder. Then Erik. Damn. I’m… part of the crew? Ryder points toward the gym.

“Time to hit the temple, boys. Follow the stank—you're gettin’ close!”

The smell of the locker rooms hits us hard. Erik inhales like it’s fresh-baked cookies. Brayden covers his face.

“Yo Ryder,” Erik smirks, “we closin’ in on your natural habitat?”

Ryder flexes. “Hell yeah. Erik knows what’s up.” Poor Brayden’s right next to him, practically inside Ryder’s sweaty armpit. Brayden mutters, “Shit, I forgot my gym gear. Kinda feel like pumpin’ though.”

“No sweat, dude,” Ryder grins. “You ‘bout to score somethin’ even better. Yo, what’s your name again, bro?”

Brayden throws up a flex. Muscles? Since when?

“Name’s Beau, duh! Who else would it be, bro? Beau’s in the house!”

They chest bump. Loud. Erik and I exchange a look. Honestly? We’re jealous.

“Alright, boys, time for the final stop. The sweatiest, manliest place on campus. Let’s roll!”

We pass the student parking lot. My truck’s there, shining in the sun. Ryder pauses.

“Damn, this beast yours?”

I nod.

“Yup. 410 horses, 6.7 liters, 8 cylinders. Full leather interior, 12-inch touchscreen, 750 watts of sound. Once you go RAM, you don’t go back.”

Chest bump from Ryder. Hell yeah. I’m in.

We hit the locker room of the football stadium. Erik looks like he just stepped into church.

“This smell, guys… this smell is home.”

Ryder points at a pile of dirty laundry.

“Y’all wanna toss a few balls? Get the vibes goin’? Let’s flex, let’s throw, let’s go full beast mode, baby!”

We don’t need to hear it twice. Clothes come off. No shame. We rummage for jockstraps like it’s Christmas morning. Erik? Yeah… he’s packing. Puts it all into a stained XXL jock like he owns the place.

We hit the field. Erik launches the ball straight through the goal from half-field.

FOUR-WAY CHEST BUMP. We’re buzzin’. Can’t wait to join the team.

“Any questions, homies? The baddest crew on campus is Alpha Phi Alpha. You bros? Already part of the fam. Party tonight at the frat house. Couch is yours if you wanna crash. Solo, duo, trio—whatever, just no eye contact. That’s, like, no homo, bro.”

Beau’s already askin’ where to grab a beer. Rick’s poppin’ a boner. And me? I’d totally suck Ryder off. If he doesn’t beat me to it.

Shit, I’m so damn proud to be a business major at the University of Kansas, Overland Park. Dad’s gonna be thrilled.

“Yo, y’all tryna join the dopest frat at the raddest school in the US of A?”

Campus info days hit different now. So much fresh meat. And the prime cuts? All belong to Alpha Phi Alpha, baby.

“That dude with the fire mullet? That’s Beau. That jacked QB over there? That’s Rick. I’m Cletus. We ‘bout to show you the real campus tour. But first—crack a cold one for the legend himself…”

We all take a long swig.

And burp out loud:

“RYDER!”

Thanks to @deliciousrunawaydetective for saving this!

She’s so cute I love her so muchhh <3

I was also only just recently made aware that dum actually has a canon CONCEPT ART DESIGN?? HOW WAS I NEVER AWARE OF THIS??

She’s so pretty omgmgmgmg <33 I wish we could see her in her human form in a video soon :D