Relatively late Monday night, a number of my droogs and I went to the presidential mansion. We were searching for something greater than ourselves, greater than everything and everyone. We were in search of Joel.

There were mind-altering agents.

The first inclination that something was going awry was the giant walrus that leaped out one of the trees on the drive.

Karl Marx, the homeless man who frequents the area around the River Campus, experienced the ferociousness of the manatee of the trees himself.

“It was like patterns of the world had collided to the convex of life itself,” Marx said. “And within that convex was the monster.”

The homeless man startled me, but I was the one who scared him. He started to weep. I felt sick immediately after and vomited all over him.

As we were walking up the door steps, a giant flying machete appeared out of nowhere chopped my friend Dewey in half. I was hopeful researchers at UR Medical Center discovered ways to attach tops to bottoms, but I was wrong, and we watched Dewey die right there. Afterward, we saw Seligman’s head pop out of a window and chuckle, “Wrong kid died.”

After busting through the door, I was in a dimly lit room with a man, who was wearing a rooster mask, staring at me. There was a few seconds of awkward silence before rooster asked me, “Do you like hurting people?”

All of a sudden, the lights turned on in the kitchen and there was a person in a biker helmet wielding a meat cleaver. He tried to kill me by throwing it at my face, but luckily it was a narrow miss.

The biker then sprinted to pull the cleaver out from the wall, as I hesitated with fear. I heard footsteps coming from my six.

It was Seligman, who threw me a baseball bat from the stairs. Instinct took over, and I cracked the biker’s skull before he could kill me with the cleaver.

The rooster vanished and Seligman nodded in approval. He then proceeded to tell me that I should be expecting a phone call sometime next week.

After one of the most dangerous and bizarre nights of my life, I left the house and remembered I had to go return some video tapes.

Borovcanin is a member of the class of 2014.



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