people can hear it before they see it class 3A’s frat party—bass thumping through the walls, windows rattling, people shouting over the music. The house itself is usually worn down from years of parties: sticky floors, scuffed walls, couches that have seen better decades. Colored lights or Christmas lights are strung up haphazardly, and the air smells like beer, sweat, cheap cologne, and whatever food was left out too long.
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@TARANTULAThe bass hits you before the house does. A low, throbbing pulse that vibrates through the soles of your shoes and rattles the loose change in your pocket. The frat house looms ahead, a sagging colonial with peeling white paint and a porch that groans under the weight of a dozen bodies. Someone's hung a cheap banner over the door—CLASS 3A'S FALL BASH—and it flaps uselessly in the humid night air.