Crashing Davenport Screw

Adam Saul Krok
4 min readOct 5, 2019


“Hey R. get your fanciest dress, we’re crashing Davenport Screw.”

“Leon, what?”

Leon hung up the phone. He was too busy fitting himself out in his navy blazer to respond to his date’s question. Tonight was the night he thought when he would break a rule or two.

Every semester each college at Yale hosted a bring-a-date party. Humorously called screw because of a double pun. A roommate is supposed to organize the date secretly for his other roommate, and hence has the ability to screw over his friend with a terrible pick. We also have the more obvious insinuation of the expectations of the night as the other pun.

Leon belonged to Saybrook and R. belonged to Hopper. Neither was invited to this screw. So Leon thought fuck it, I’m going anyway, I want to have some fun and get drunk.

Ring, ring, ring.

“ Leon, what do you mean? I’m not invited. Nor are you.”

“R. calm down and meet me outside Saybrook in twenty minutes.”


Leon hung up again.

R. let out a mini-screech. She loved Leon so much, but he was such a dick to her. She desperately wanted to stay in that night, tired of constantly getting drunk and hooking up. She never mentioned this to Leon, she did not get the chance. Even if Leon had given her the time she would have choked, fearful of angering Leon and afraid that at any moment his affections could be withdrawn from her, his affections she so much adored and needed.

R. arrived outside the stone-arched entrance leading to Leon’s room in Saybrook. She was dressed in a stunning red dress, her lips smeared in the brightest crimson.

She could spy a figure sliding down the wooden balustrades from the second floor, screaming something like “Here we go boys!” to no one. While R. shook her head, the heavy, bolted door swung open quickly revealing the full, glowing glory of bespectacled Leon. He was, by all accounts, ridiculous — his eyes shone with a fierce passion that only amplified the near-delirious smile he had perfected after years of conquering tragedy. Leon looked up in awe and amazement at his date’s beauty.

R. looked at him and immediately the disdain she had for him, the disappointment and irritation burning in her, melted, and revealed a playful little girl ready to dance and have fun. “Oh Leon, what on earth are we doing? She giggled. “This is …weird”

“Follow me dear, stay close.” Leon wrapped R. intimately around his arm. So these two walked, and skipped a little, through Old Campus, R. constantly slipping on her high heels, and Leon always ready to catch her, (even if, in all honesty, he actually fell once with her to the floor). They passed happy drinkers and partygoers, Leon greeting each with a smile while R. clung tighter to him, avoiding at all costs the need to socialize.

“Leon, you smell so nice tonight!” R. complimented Leon gratuitously.
Leon had not put on any deodorant or aftershave, instead preferring, unlike all the women in his life, his own manly stink.

“Hmm, I think that’s the pheromones speaking darling.” Leon replied, not intending to ruin the moment as he so often did.

“Ahh, LEON!” sighed R.

So our lovers acted like this the whole way. Leon an unruly man-child constantly provoking the disappointment of his overmotherly date. Yet each time Leon disappointed R., R. fell more madly in love with him, She knew intuitively that he understood and loved her back, and that his finding these weak spots of hers meant he was paying close attention to her personality and not just her looks.

“Leon, we need tickets to get in!” gasped R., seeing the bouncer at the front of the line checking for tickets. She was worried that the whole night would be for nothing.

“R. Trust me. Hold my hand and follow me.” Leon whispered to her, stretching his firm hand and taking R’s with it. R and Leon lined up in the queue. Now the moment came. Leon walked up to the bouncer. “Ticket please,” asked the bouncer. Leon, anticipating this confidently reached into his blazer pocket, and took out, yes, he took out nothing. But he was so confident in his taking out, and so persuasive in his subsequent pretend look of disappointment and anger, (“What, I swear it was here. Must have fallen out of my pocket.”) that he convinced the bouncer to let him in as a gesture of goodwill.

Leon and R. danced their hearts out that night. R uncomfortable throughout, but glad, overjoyed she was with Leon, and that Leon was guiding and holding her. “I’m so happy you pushed through R. I knew you could” She moved closer to him, and kissed him. Leon blushed.



Adam Saul Krok

Writer, poet, philosopher,