The thrashing from Josh, the six-three/two hundred pound pituitary case continues. He is relentless, beating you like a rented mule in front of the entire cafeteria. Drinks are poured onto you. Soggy fries are stuffed down your pants. Through a haze you see Suzy snapping pictures of you with her phone. But just when you feel the dark comfort of a blackout creeping up on you, the beating stops and a new commotion arises. You lie there silently, afraid to open your eyes, wondering what's going on.