Two weeks ago, some students on their way back to their frat were pulled over for having a broken headlight – an offense that quickly became irrelevant when police found what was in his backseat. The strange assortment of items in his car included a stop sign, beer, a pumpkin, two sombreros, a fake ID and a live lobster. The BUTT recently found a letter in the Nature Preserve written by said lobster. In the letter, entitled “Letter From a Binghamton Jail” the lobster expressed his thoughts on the matter of students using him and his people for their intoxicated shenanigans. The letter reads:As a lobster speaking for my fellow crustaceans, I would like to kindly ask the “Weekend Warriors” at Binghamton to fuck off and stop using us for your drunken entertainment. As if we don’t endure enough torture being squished into tanks at Wegmans, we are frequently purchased by frat-bros who force us to slam-back Jäger bombs and inhale vape smoke through our orifices at their lame parties.
I am a recent refugee from Alpha Phi Zeta, where the frat brothers used me for their drunken shenanigans last Friday night. At their party, they put me inside of a keg to “see if I could swim”, forced me to crowd-surf while they blasted shitty rap music, and worst of all, used my claws to help them shot-gun their beers.
On that night, one drunk frat brother took me with him to Binghamton Hots. When the police pulled him over on his way back for a broken headlight and searched his car, I escaped and made my way towards the Downtown Express. Though when I got to State Street, some ass-holes coming from the bars picked me up and brought me to their house party. They posted on Facebook, “COME THRU FAM WE GOT A LOBSTER!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! ” with my photograph attached. Once again, I was forced to attend an awful party, where I had to taste watered-down punch spilled on the floor, and got thrown across the room like a football by two intoxicated seniors. At the end of the night, a sympathetic and wasted freshman girl rescued me when my claw got stuck in a used condom, though her friends screamed and ran away when she picked me up
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Because the drunk girl released me into the Nature Preserve lake when she returned to campus (which is freshwater pond lacking the saltwater I need to live), I am going to die soon. So on behalf of my crustacean friends I am writing this letter, to ask you fucking dicks in Binghamton to stop using my people for your intoxicated shenanigans.
By Erin McLaughlin
The BUTT 