Gamma Gamma Gamma

Gamma Gamma GammaApparently there would be a party after all. It was already four days late and couldn't be called an initiation party, since all the pledges were now brothers. But that was really nobody's fault, unless it was Pomaczchek's. He had been a bit anxious, spending too many hours fussing in the attic over his 20-gallon barrel of home beer, until the fumes and fermentation got too much for his stomach to accept passively. Even then, it was simply a matter of poor judgment that everyone...