According to concerned friends, Avery Sharpe ‘20 has not left his room in over a week. The cause of Sharpe’s collapse was initially unclear.
“I thought it might be because he was going through a breakup,” Brett Richards ‘20 speculated. “I heard all this crying and a phone call. He said something about priorities in life and the importance of honesty. It turns out he wasn’t even dating anyone, he just didn’t know what classes he wanted to take next year.”
Pre-registration sneaks up on everyone, but Sharpe found himself especially unprepared for his junior year. After a long period of cajoling, Sharpe finally elaborated on his feelings.
“THERE IS NO GOD!” Sharpe screamed through the door of his Cushing double.
When pressed for details about this controversial opinion, Sharpe replied with soft weeping and a series of gurgling noises.
In hopes of illuminating how the situation deteriorated so quickly, Sharpe’s neighbor, Mary Park ‘20, shared two conversations she had in passing with Sharpe the week before.
“He was standing outside his room with his head against the door, so I said, ‘Hey, Avery, is everything ok?’ and he said, ‘Yeah, I just can’t decide between two classes that I really want to take next year.’ I laughed and said that was a good problem to have, at least he wasn’t desperately trying to get enough credits. One tear fell down his cheek. A couple days later, he was lying on the floor in the MPR, so I said, ‘Hey, Avery, is everything ok?’ and he said, ‘I have to find one more full-credit class. I don’t know what to take,’ and I said, ‘Oh no. That’s the worst. Let me know if I can help.’ He never did. Now I have to listen to him throw things in his room all night, and I can’t sleep. I would talk to him about it, but he locked himself in his room, so I can’t really bring it up casually,” said Park.
Sharpe’s roommate, Troy Bressman ‘20, had a slightly different perspective on Sharpe’s isolation.
“I don’t spend a lot of time here anyway. I have some friends in a TA. I’m usually there. We play Grand Theft Auto, it’s dope. It would be nice to get my toothbrush out of the room, though. My teeth are starting to feel kinda mossy,” said Bressman.
The Office of Residential Life has been notified about the situation with Sharpe. They simply stated, “Unless he has an extension cord, we can’t do anything right now. He has to leave by May 23.”
Sharpe offered another peek into his psyche.
“I’VE BEEN FORSAKEN! WHY DOESN’T ANYTHING MEET WHEN I CAN MAKE IT?”
Sharpe followed this statement with a few indiscernible moans and shrieks that would be difficult to express in written language, but may have sounded something like, “HhiiIIIEMARGGAAA.”
In an attempt to be helpful, Sharpe’s academic adviser offered to help resolve his scheduling conflicts. So far, all of the time management worksheets she has slid under his door have returned in shreds, apparently bitten to pieces by Sharpe. Cushing House Team has discussed removing the door from its hinges to grant support personnel direct access to Sharpe. No steps have been taken yet to follow through on this, but one house team member did climb a large tree to try to see into Sharpe’s window. Results were inconclusive, since Sharpe’s shade remains drawn.
“I don’t care who’s climbing trees, I need to sleep. It sounds like a horde of jungle animals in there every night,” said Park.
Having fled once again to his friend’s TA, Bressman realized he, too, needed one more full-credit class in his schedule for the coming semester. “I have three research papers to work on,” said Bressman. “I can deal with this during pre-reg part two or add period in the fall.”
Photo caption: After learning about Sharpe’s meltdown, his academic advisor courageously decided to take matters into her own hands by awkwardly visiting students’ living quarters and personally delivering time management sheets to her struggling advisee. To her dismay, Sharpe returned the now-shredded sheets in a matter of seconds.