I do not want to write this article. I do not want to write this article so very badly that I am refusing to use contractions. I have no time to write this article. I had three midterms and a tech week last week, and now I am behind in homework for my classes.
Evelyn Frick, Humor and Satire editor for The Miscellany News, has forced me into writing an article. She tried appealing to my “duty” as a “friend,” but that did not work so now she is standing behind me holding a Large Brick. She is threatening to fly to Wisconsin and drop it on my beloved dog, Guinness, who is very sick. If you see her after this is published please tell her that my writing was very good and funny and worthy of keeping my diseased pup alive another day, but not so good and funny and worthy of keeping my diseased pup alive another day that I should be allowed to write for The Miscellany News again. This is the best-case scenario. Okay, she’s peeking over my shoulder now to make sure that I am writing an article so here is a list to make it look like I am being productive.
Here is a list of things I could be doing instead of writing this article:
1. My homework
2. Getting a good night’s sleep
3. Talking to my friends who are not Evelyn about things that are not why I am not writing my article for The Miscellany News right now
4. Looking outside of a window in The Bridge for Laboratory Sciences in silent contemplation
5. Watching my corporeal form dissipate in the moonlight as I don prison shackles to rattle around the mansions of the wealthy(my on-campus job is the Ghost of Christmas Past).
Full confession: the Ghost of Christmas Past is not the one who has chains around his body. The chain boy is Jacob Marley, Scrooge’s deceased business partner. I figured nobody would know him by name so I slandered the Ghost of Christmas Past’s good name for the sake of this joke. Also I had to google “which Ghost of Christmas wears the chains” and the answer is none of them, which was pretty embarrassing.
Okay I can end the short list, she is gone now. She has stepped out to take her Large Brick on a walk as part of a psychological game to remind me of the power of Life and Death she holds over my sweet canine with chronic illness. She took her time to attach the leash and offer it water before she left, dragging the brick and scuffing the hardwood floors behind her. Truly, she is evil personified. While she is gone I will tell you a true fact about Evelyn. She is attracted to lizards. Well, Benedict Cumberbatch. Same thing. (Editor’s Note: Benedict Cumberbatch is beautiful and had I not foolishly agreed to keep your bedridden pupper safe from the Large Brick for another week this would mean His End.)
Oh dear. I can hear the menacing sound of her size 16 heels clacking ever closer and also the equally menacing sound a brick being dragged outside. She must be coming back. The door is opening, dear reader. The door is opening and Evelyn is standing at the entrance. She is grinning at me. She smiles from the mouth but not from the eyes. (Another one of her faults is that since she cannot smile, she will never make it on to America’s Next Top Model.) Her dead eyes glare at me. She is not blinking. The Large Brick dangles from its leash, coiled around her outstretched hand.
She begins to speak. Her lips do not move, but the room shakes at the sound of her voice.
“The humor article,” she shrieks.
I turn my computer, shaking. I blink and suddenly she is before me. Her eyes scan the document, counting the words.
“700 words. The agreement has been met,” she says. Her smile stretches inhumanly far, like the Joker. Her eyes remain emotionless.
“Your ailing pooch is safe another day.”
A hole opens up in the ground. Flames spiral out and the room starts to spin. Something hits my temple, and I fall unconscious.
I awake on Ballantine Field. The sun is setting and in the distance I can see a small, really quite tiny figure flying away on huge batwings. My dog and I are safe for another day.