Well, dear readers, it appears we must regrettably meet again. Another terrible mystery has arisen on our lovely campus, and I, for one, cannot let it go unnoticed.
They––and I must admit I do not even know who they really are––are doing something to Noyes. Our beloved Noyes House, undoubtedly the best house on campus for any short, dexterous fans of parabolas (of which I am sure there are many among the student body). What have they done to her? What will they continue to do?
From what I have seen, and it hasn’t been much as I find myself struck by fear whenever I pass it, the grotesque beasts surrounding our lady seem reminiscent of construction vehicles. A backhoe, perhaps? (Your faithful Humor Editor isn’t great at identifying decoy construction vehicles, I’m afraid.) It’s almost convincing enough to cause me little stress. Almost.
That itself would have struck fear into my faithful heart. But, dear readers, there is more––they have erected barriers in front of Noyes House in the form of orange plastic fencing. What could possibly be so important as to keep the beloved residents of Vassar’s favoritest dorm out? What are they hiding in there?
Now, I am not one to let a mystery go unsolved, so I went right to the source. I have a friend who lives in Noyes. She has somehow been able to slip out through the barricades in order to go to classes and usher for the Jazz Band and the like. She’s been told by the powers that be that they are redoing the sidewalk in front of the house. But you know me: I’m not willing to accept the obvious quite so easily.
The machines are too vast, too multiplicitous to simply be removing and repaving concrete! And why, dear readers, why the barriers? Would a simple roll of yellow caution tape not be enough to placate the masses enough to encourage them to go in the back doors of our cinderblock temple? I can’t accept it––I won’t.
The question, then, remains: What are they doing, if not repaving the sidewalk? What could possibly be so important as to interrupt student life and residence halls onin these, the days before finals as opposed to waiting less than two weeks for the winter break? Well, I’ve come to an answer that I think might explain it. But I can’t guarantee you’ll like what you are about to read.
Here’s your answer, dear readers: They are moving Noyes House two inches to the left.
Why they must do it, and must do it now, I don’t know. But there is no other option. Why else the fences? The hideous creatures masquerading as useful equipment? The impenetrable walls? They are hiding their activities, and this is certainly an activity worth hiding.
Perhaps they discovered a sinkhole. Perhaps the ghosts from the cemetery have been skirting a little too close to students’ windows. Perhaps that puddle of stagnant water finally gained sentience and vows revenge. To be honest, dear readers, that is a mystery I cannot yet solve. But I hope with our newfound knowledge, we can work to fit in this remaining piece of the puzzle together.
Until then, enjoy your winter break. Though if you come back and find the view from your residence hall to be slightly different than how you remember, don’t say I didn’t warn you.