Massachusetts Student “Not Even Cold, Dude”
Does this man look cold to you?
Sporting nothing but oversized gym shorts and a Bruins jersey, Connor Jackson (MSB ’20) was “not even that cold, dude” at the time of interview. With numerous incidences of snowfall and freezing rain, multiple sources reported the Boston native making the walk from his Village C East dorm room to Leo’s, stepping directly through patches of ice and snow in his Adidas slides.
“This is, like, nothing,” said Jackson as snow piled up on his practically bare feet. “People here have no idea what cold is even like. Last winter back home it didn’t go above zero for three weeks. THREE WEEKS,” the Bostonian repeated again as his eyes widened manically, as though waiting desperately for some indication of disbelief from our correspondent. When our correspondent nodded politely, Jackson continued, “This one time at a Pats game, it snowed three feet before halftime,” as his pupils dilated, and rabies-like foam escaped the corner of his frozen-on sneer.
As a passing group of freshmen from California remarked on the temperature to one another, faces invisible under the furry hoods of their parkas staring at Jackson’s exposed legs and feet, the aura of calm superiority returned to his face. “Yeah, I’ll probably walk over to Wingo’s later to pick up food for the game tonight. Weather’s pretty good out,” he said, raising his voice so the passing bundles of fur and down could overhear. Jackson then let out a barely-audible grunt, as the hair on his legs began thickening and turning white.
“Yeah, this is honestly, like, beach weather. We wouldn’t cancel lacrosse practice at my school. Ever,” he said, as the animal-like glint returned to his eyes. “One time we had to practice in snowshoes because it had snowed 14 or 15 feet the night before,” continued Jackson, the humanity fading from his face as a lion’s mane of white fur began sprouting from the exposed skin between his Bruins jersey and Sox hat, small icicles hanging from the brim in spite of Jackson’s staunch disregard of the temperature. “Mom still drove me to practice, though. Nobody knows how to drive in the snow down here.” His pupils filled his entire eyes as he stared blankly at our correspondent, silently daring him to express any sort of astonishment.
According to multiple reports, at this point the sophomore’s disdainful speech deteriorated into animalistic grunts as fur rapidly sprouted from his body and he grew several feet, letting out a low growl. As our reporter ran for cover, eye witnesses in the Southwest Quad saw the monstrosity that was only moments ago Connor Jackson (MSB ’20) unearth a nearby lamppost and launch it out of sight, a distant crash audible as the projectile broke through the ice of the Potomac. The yeti-like Bostonian was seen running towards the woods behind the McDonough Gym, alternating roars with semi-intelligible remarks about how nobody here “even knows what cold is.”
Students woke up this morning to see an email from Jay Gruber, Chief of Police and Assistant Vice-President for Public Safety, outlining a newly-written plan for “Yeti-Related Incidents” on-campus. As of the printing of this article, the university has yet to officially acknowledge the incident in spite of the mysterious emails not only from Jay Gruber, Chief of Police and Assistant Vice-President for Public Safety, but also from Todd A. Olson, Ph.D, Vice President of Student Affairs, on the newly formed student Council on Monster and Witchcraft Mitigation and Elimination. Despite the title of the council, President DeGioia insists it is nothing more than a university response to a recent papal decree. To apply for the mysterious council, students must simply write their qualifications and recent acts of sin in an ancient and ominous black, leather-bound tome that now rests on a podium outside of the President’s office in Healy Hall. Ceremonial kidnappings of applicants who are chosen for the council will take place in the coming weeks.
PC: Brian Damerau