In a stunning move that no one expected yet we all still knew was inevitable deep down, campus has been closed for the Fall semester, allowing only freshmen, new transfer students, and new graduate students the exalted privilege of actually attending college. “We’re sorry if there was any confusion,” said a Stevens spokesperson over the sound of them continually spraying an entire can of air freshener in the face of one of the reporters. “But when we said we’d create a ‘Stronger, Safer Stevens,’ we meant that it would be stronger and safer if you guys didn’t get your gross germs all over the place. Ah, ick, did you just breathe? Take them away!” The spokesperson then clapped and the offending breather was carried off by two burly individuals wearing “Secure, Sterilized Stevens” T-shirts. After taking a few minutes to slather a gallon of hand sanitizer on themself and chug a bottle of Vitamin C, the spokesperson described the precautions that the school would be taking to protect the fragile constitutions of the incoming freshmen. “I am proud to announce that for the first time ever, we will be cleaning Pierce! Our janitorial staff are working around the clock to get all of the stains out of the carpet, and they are pleased to report that most of the stains came from food!” The spokesperson waved a hand at a haggard-looking janitor staring darkly into the horizon with a fly walking across their eyeball. “Unfortunately, as a result, the CAPS office is fully booked for a few weeks, so please don’t have a mental health emergency until we get everything sorted out.”
The administration has remained apologetic for suddenly springing the whole “if you leased an apartment already you better set up an underground gerbil farm there so you can at least get some of the money back” thing on everyone. “Believe us, we totally sympathize with anyone who leased an apartment for the fall,” said an administrator rolling around in a giant inflatable ball with duct tape covering the seams. “What are we going to do with the gym now? The last time any of the administration lifted weights is when we carried the wheelbarrows of tuition money to the bank while laughing maniacally!” The administrator then made the fatal mistake of all giant inflatable hamster ball users and, much like the proverbial Icarus, strayed too close to the sun when he rolled his way a bit too close to the edge of a steep hill. The resulting damage left in the hamster ball’s wake of destruction has been described by some eyewitnesses as “a modern-day Pompeii,” or, as one significantly less verbose viewer declared, “[the ball] decked that toddler, dude!”
With freshmen and other first-year students as the only living beings tolerated on the post-germ utopia that is campus, it has unfortunately fallen to them to recreate every facet of college life without the help of their more experienced classmates. “We’ve got a lot of work to do,” said one freshman who was simultaneously feverishly writing a paper while also not caring about their schoolwork at all. “I got stuck with ‘kid with senioritis but who never tried in the first place either,’ so now I’m taking the same class four times this semester so I can fail the first three and get a C+ on the fourth one. My friend got ‘creepy guy who always smells like cheese,’ which is a real shame: he was a good guy, and it’ll suck never being able to talk to, interact with, or look at him ever again.” Similarly, freshman initiates at fraternity Chi Beta Tau (CBT) have started hazing themselves in an attempt to get that authentic college experience. “You have no idea how hard it was to wedgie myself,” said one freshman who was currently attempting to duct-tape himself to the horse statue on Palmer Lawn. “Actually, could you do me a solid real quick and call me a stinky little pig boy? Yeah, put some real anger behind it! YEAH! I’M A STINKY LITTLE PIG BOY!!!” [Note: That freshman and the reporter interviewing him are now married. Please reference the attached gift registry to choose which >$60 gift you want to sit unopened in their closet.]
While Off the Press is still allowed on campus due to us all being young at heart—everyone who works at Off the Press is legally 15 months old—we can understand how frustrating it must be to lose out on more than an eighth of your college experience. Although The Stute is taking the coward’s way out and refusing to publish the germ-ridden media of newspaper print to all 12 people still on campus, Off the Press will continue to pump out absolute bangers, journalistically speaking, to all of our avid readers.
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