Roommates fear loss of jerking rights

Willis Porkloin

Having lived in the same 10-by-14-foot room together for the past three years, roommates Brent Swenson and Lucky Hackness grew to dread the word “apocalypse.”
The two found themselves in a predicament upon learning the University would close its doors, and they might be forced to live apart.
The fate of the two will be determined by a higher power when the world comes to an end, and most likely, there will be no University apartments where they can reside after the world burns up.
Swenson, a sports management junior, and Hackness, a child psychology senior, finally solved the puzzle that most roommates dream of, and both are worried that all of the hard work they’ve done will be forgotten.
The roommates, tired of getting walked in on, pioneered a new technique geared for frisky college students.
Hackness and Swenson’s idea spearheaded a new wave of confident masturbating and lovemaking, and cleared the way for a healthy, understanding roommate relationship.
“The old sock on the door technique is what we call it,” joked Swenson.
“I just got sick of it. Every time I wanted to rub one off, I was more nervous about Lucky walking in than I was engaged in the most recent issue of Playboy,” he said.
Swenson talked of one such incident.
“I was sitting in the room, taking care of business and, boom, in walks Lucky. I rustled around, trying to regroup, but Lucky knew immediately what was going on,” he said. “I felt like a man without a country.”
Swenson said that after that final episode, the two did some brainstorming. For a period of about six months, they tried out several new ideas, but none of them worked.
But finally, on a frigid December evening in 1998, Hackness broke through with a revolutionary idea.
Hackness said the groundbreaking thought came to him in a dream.
“It was weird,” he recalled. “I just woke up and realized that, ‘holy sh*t, I’ve got it!'”
He woke up Swenson to tell him about the revelation.
“At first, I thought his idea was pretty far-fetched, just your average bullsh*t, but the more I thought about it, the more I began to believe that Lucky was a f**king genius,” Swenson said.
Lucky’s plan was to put a special sign on the roommates’ door every time one of them was ‘getting busy.’
He and Swenson decided that the most inconspicuous symbol would be a dirty sock hung over the doorknob.
When the sock was placed over the knob, the other roommate knew not to attempt to come in.
The method has worked for more than a year, and both say they wouldn’t know what to do without it.
“I don’t know what direction my life will go in if I couldn’t live with Brent,” Lucky said.
“It’s unimaginable what it would be like trying to institute a brand-new system with someone else after all the hard work Brent and I put in on this.”
“I can only hope there is a god out there who sees what kind of progress we’ve made as roommates and makes every attempt to keep us together,” he said.
While the apocalypse saddens close friends like Hackness and Swenson, freshman economics major Buck Samuelson thinks it’s the “biggity, biggity bomb.”
“Yeah, I do this and that, but it don’t matter now, ’cause I’m gonna get f**ked-up and watch the world go shithouse in two triple-0, just like Jim Carrey said it would at the Music Awards.”

Willis Porkloin covers sick, sick topics. The Daily does not permit correspondence with the dirty sonuvabitch.