Celebrations and jubilations are abound on campus as the Snevets Bioengineering Department has recently announced that they have cured the dreaded BUDLITE-19, the modern-day plague that has presumably infected 85% of the world’s population by the time this article gets published. At last, it seems the virus’ reign of terror over our collective immune systems has ended as cures are being sent out of Snevets to every major population center in America (except for Chicago, due to licensing issues). The cure has come none too soon, as the entire Eastern Seaboard has been reduced to little more than squabbling tribes as a result of mass infection and the subsequent panic that followed.
Researchers huddling in the last bastion of civilization that was McClean have recently announced that they have finally formulated the cure to the dreaded virus, narrowly avoiding being shot by wandering pillagers as they made the announcement. The cure came at the cost of several billion dollars, thousands of sacrificial lab mice, and a few regrettable acts of cannibalism when the lab supplies ran out. “We’ve done it!” announced a bedraggled scientist with shattered glasses and missing patches of hair, raising a vial of scientific-looking green goo in one shaking arm. “We’ve finally done it!” The scientist then collapsed onto the ground, where they were quickly looted by a local biker gang that was in attendance.
The school has tried to recall all of its students and reassert its power as an Institute of Technology in the wake of the newfound cure. However, ever since the fall of the federal government, Snevets has acted as a tributary of the rising New York City-State, which has brought the school into conflict with the Commonwealth of New New Jersey. President-for-Life Narfarvar has ordered his top general, Atilla the Chicken, to rally the troops and prepare an all-out invasion of Bohoken in order to force all of the students in SLH to return to class. The webbed-footed monster responsible for the River Street Massacre has brought campus into full mobilization, ordering soldiers to patrol campus in duck-step and forcing all work-study students to labor endlessly at the wildly unsafe Burshard weapons factory. “I’m just glad to have the hours, you know?” said one emaciated student as they shoveled coal into a raging furnace. “The worst part is when I have to hand-feed loaves of bread to Atilla though. He gets so excited, that sometimes he forgets to wait for me to let go. I’ve lost three fingers so far.” The student was then hauled off by several members of Atilla’s elite guard, the Mighty Ducks, for daring to pause their work for so long.
The cure has been heavily criticized by the Cult of Budlitevirus, who preach that the budlitevirus was brought from on high to cleanse humanity of its sin and hubris. “Heresy!” cried the cult’s leader, Plaguemaster Dave, as he stood ominously on an outcropping above the Hudson River. “It is vanity to think that mere mortals could stop the Blessed Illness! You might as well try to cure the passing of the seasons or halt a raging waterfall with pills! From the budlitevirus we all came, and into its comforting flagella will we all return!” Dave then stopped to practice his daily ritual of licking all available surfaces, pausing only to cough up a sizable chunk of his lungs. He was then carried off by several Children of the Virus, keeping his hands covered in mud to prevent any chance of soap touching them.
Off the Press can only hope that the invention of this new cure for the Budlite Killer will restore some semblance of normalcy back to the world. For now, we have remained huddled in our underground News Bunker hidden several miles beneath the How Center, getting the facts for the news from very long submarine-style periscopes emerging from Pamler Lawn. We have enough ink and typewriters to last us centuries, but unfortunately our intern Rick forgot to pack any food besides Cheez-Its, so we’re pretty desperate to get back to the surface.
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