Coery Feldman?

Like I usually do, I ditched the campus for a week or so, this time heading out to Chi Town. It was fun. I did Springer, checked out a Cubs game, and had some deep dish pizza. It was like Ferris Bueller all over again.

I then took in a little of the night life. I was surprised how easy it was for me to get into every club. The problem was, no one would let me drink. They kept saying they didn't want me to fall off the wagon. I was getting pissed, until:

"Dude, do you still talk to Corey Haim?"

"Sure, all the time, why?"

"Man, you two were great in Dream a Little Dream 2."

"We were?"

"Oh man, I just can't believe I'm talking to The Corey Feldman."

"Me either."

I've always been told by my Boston friend that I look like the famed child actor. Now, due to my looks, I was caught in a classic Catch-22. On the one hand, I'd probably be tossed from these exclusive clubs if I came clean. On the other, as long as I was Corey Feldman, it would look bad if I did any drugs.

I chose the former, and found myself in a hotel room with two hookers doing coke off a room service platter. The cops came, and I jumped out the back window, into the pool. I was lucky it was only a second story room, making it an easy drop for an olympic diver like me. I barely made it to the airport and the Hertz booth, where I rented a car and escaped home. That Monday I was called into the Dean's office. He threw a copy of the National Inquirer on his desk. It had a picture of me running from the cops, soaking wet from the hotel pool. The headline read: "Feldman off the Wagon? Shocking photos inside."