The Party Animal

His name was Pondo.

Pondo Sinatra.

You know he came to the college

on the back of a turnip truck.

Now, that's the truth.

The problem was,

he only had one thing on his mind.

He had a hard-on.

I was a janitor at

that college for 23 years...

and I've never seen a boy try harder

than he did to get himself a woman.

But he was jinxed.

Even for a white boy, he was awful.

Old Pondo had an almost

supernatural ability...

to get on the wrong side of a woman.

Who would have ever thought

it would turn out the way it did?

Strangely enough, I was his best friend

through the whole ordeal.

I remember...

the first time I saw him driving up

in the back of that turnip truck.

I thought to myself,

"Now there is a geek."

But basically,

he was just a very nice guy.

He just had a one-track mind.

He was obsessed.

I went out with Pondo, once.

And one time only.

Never again.

I heard about him.

And everything I heard about him was true.

And now he's famous. I don't believe it.

There was something about him.

I think he made me want to throw up.

He was, what you call

in America, a nerd.

All this talk, it's like Pondo

was turned into this big myth or something.

He was just an ordinary guy.

He was very horny, yes, but an ordinary guy.

I heard he was raised on a pig farm.

I believe it.

He wasn't that bad.

I was the first one. It all started with me.

I think I'm the one that should be famous.

Not him. Creep.

I tried to introduce

him to campus life.

There were some

amazing-looking girls at the school.

I tried to teach him about sports.

I tried to teach him

to walk like a stud.

He was hopeless. Everyone agreed.

Pondo Sinatra was going to die a virgin.

I never dreamed it would turn out

the way it did.

- Women hate me.

- That's ridiculous.

I'd sell my soul for a piece of ass.

- Don't say that.

- It's true.

I know it might be true,

but don't say it out loud.

- I'd sell my soul for a piece of ass!

- Damn it! You'll be sorry you said that.

Pondo, no.

- Why not?

- I'm not that kind of a girl.

- Yes, you are.

- Pondo, stop it!

Why?

I don't know you well enough.

- Please. I'm a virgin.

- Get used to it.

Please, I got to know what it's like.

I'm going blind.

- Pondo, don't beg.

- Why not?

Drive me home.

- Bend over and I'll drive you home.

- That's disgusting!

Don't go. I'm sorry. Please.

Pondo Sinatra, everything I've heard

about you is true.

You're an animal.

You're disgusting and you're gross.

Can I call you tomorrow?

Seduction is an art.

You make love, you create art.

You, Pondo, you wage war,

you understand?

Studley, it is a war. It's hell.

Old Pondo was 26 years old

when he started to college.

Now, you've heard of a

"second-year senior."

Well, old Pondo,

he was a "fifth-year senior."

They finally held an election

and booted the boy out.

You have to learn to set the mood.

Romance her. Woo her.

Charm her.

Atmosphere, Pondo. Set the stage.

I'm gonna take you on a great picnic.

- Ever had a picnic before?

- No.

There's a lovely area down here.

Here we go!

Easy.

Here it is.

This is lovely.

Look at the birds, the sky.

Pondo, this is beautiful.

The flowers, they are like snow.

Pondo, this is so romantic.

- Just setting the stage.

- The stage?

- I love the theater.

- Do you?

"You blocks, you stones,

you worse than senseless things."

You creeks,

where Dead Man's Fingers grow.

Brilliant! Bravo!

Testing. One, two, three.

Thank you.

Of course, you know I am a theater major?

- I'm a thespian.

- A lesbian?

No, I am an actress.

I like to show off. You see?

- Curtain.

- We've got a live one, Pondo.

Oh, God, I love nature.

I love the sun and its hydrogen...

licking my burning skin.

Testing. One, two, three.

Protoplasm, come to get me.

I love the wind whirling.

- What's that?

- My hearing aid.

- I'll talk louder.

- That's okay. That's fine.

Don't panic.

Give her the champagne.

Do you want some champagne?

I can do without the sham.

Just give me the pain.

Don't whine.

Don't whine.

It's a pun, yes?

Are you a poet? Are you a wit?

- I am a nitwit.

- I am a nitwit.

- A half-wit.

- I'm a half-wit.

- A moron.

- I'm a moron!

- Really?

- Goddamn you, Studley.

Will you just trust me on this? Okay?

Before you...

I am wordless and brainless...

struck dumb...

and left mindless...

before the ferocious intelligence

of your beauty.

...before the ferocious intelligence

of your beauty.

You silver-tongued little devil.

- No devil.

- You are certainly no saint!

- I am a pilgrim.

- I am a pilgrim.

Come to worship.

Come to worship.

Worship what, pilgrim?

My headphones are out!

That's okay, I can hear you.

Worship what, pilgrim?

Worship what? Tell me and I am yours.

Make up something.

- The holy spot.

- No!

The vernal delta.

- The bearded clam.

- Pondo.

- I thought you were a poet.

- I am.

Well, then make love to me in verse.

Go. Do it.

Do it, or I'm leaving.

"Roses are red, violets are blue

"You got big tits,

I want to suck on them, too"

- I'm leaving.

- Wait. Natasha!

Pondo, you've got to learn to knock.

You've got enough knockers in here.

- What do you want?

- I'm gonna kill myself.

Pondo, don't give up.

All right.

I'll help you.

- You will?

- Sure.

- How?

- Have you ever seen the school nurse?

- She is beautiful.

- She's yours.

- Mine?

- For the asking.

- How? What do I say to her?

- Get her to examine you.

What will I say?

Tell her you've got a problem

with your pecker.

I got a problem with my pecker.

- What?

- My hooter.

- How long have you had it?

- I've had my hooter all my life.

What's the problem with your member?

- My what?

- Your member.

I never thought of him as a member.

I always thought of him as a loner.

Take off your pants.

Underwear, too.

I'll take off mine

if you take off yours.

Get up on the table.

No!

Pondo, you've got to quit giving up.

- You just need some training.

- Training? What do you mean?

- You need to know what to do.

- I know what to do.

But you don't know how to do it.

You need a teacher.

But you said you were my teacher.

You said you were my teacher.

I want to take you

to see my teacher, Elbow.

- Elbow?

- Elbow.

Okay.

Sh*t, Studley, I'm sorry.

Hey, it's all right, man.

So, you've come to old Elbow

for some advice?

Yes, sir.

You ain't getting no p*ssy, are you?

No, sir.

Why do you think

we call p*ssy, "p*ssy"?

- I don't know, sir.

- Because it's furry?

Because it's warm?

Because it scratches

when it gets angry?

No? Well, what then?

Now, it don't purr and it don't meow!

Then why do we call it "p*ssy"?

I don't know, sir.

Because that old hound dog

wants to eat it up.

You've got to be the hound dog.

You've got to let that p*ssy know

you're the hound dog.

Put it in your mind. Feel it in your body.

Hound dog's gonna eat that p*ssy.

Let me hear you say that.

Hound dog is gonna eat that p*ssy.

No. Hound dog's gonna eat that p*ssy.

Hound dog is gonna eat that p*ssy.

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