FLY SWATTER

At 4:20 a.m. quiet reigned in the resonant entryway.

Until the fly buzzed in.

"Hey you!" boomed the male voices. As the fly trooped out trailing a new inductee, Dartboard muffled our ears and tried to fall back to sleep.

But now fully awake--having been scared, nightgown-clad, into the hallway to see what was amiss--we seethed with frustration and exhaustion, unable to sleep.

This final club seems to think its posh digs on desirable Harvard Square real estate aren't enough, nor the loud parties the Harvard Police seem not to notice. The club seems to think it needs to wake young lasses mid-dream to prove its masculinity.

Why not gather inductees before midnight like other normal student groups? The glee club sings, but sings at 11 p.m. The Crimson even comes at 6 p.m. But wait--these groups all have a higher purpose than mere social reinforcement.

Ladies, Dartboard urges you to refrain from waiting on final club doorsteps in little black dresses from now on. Lord Final Club has reached beyond his hive and invaded your sleep, your dreams and your nighttime solace.