A couple of weeks ago, two squirrels ransacked a house full of English majors who, for all their knowledge of obscure Renaissance vocabulary, simply could not reason with the little devils. “I opened the door one afternoon after I got out of class and found them just sitting on my doorstep. I tried to say hello to them and offer some Earl Grey like any respectable man of literature but they just ran between my legs and started chewing on all of our books. ‘How rude!’ I thought. It was...

Henry Bishonen, once a super cute freshman by all accounts, has been acting rather strangely of late. Whenever a girl smiles or waves at him during class, he lets out an exasperated gasp as his nose unleashes an epic stream of blood. Then he runs out of the room screaming what sounds like, “Hazukashii!!!” The word, meaning “shame or embarrassment” in Japanese, really should not be part of his vocabulary, considering the fact that he’d never spoken a lick of Japanese in his life prior to this last week. He...

Professor James W. Snipes was surprised to find a student walking into class with a cane in one hand and a tattered leather-bound copy of Paradise Lost in his other this Monday. We sought out Snipes and asked him about the mysterious student, to which he replied, “I’ve never seen anything like it—I can’t even remember the student’s name because he never spoke in class before but now he goes by John, acts blind, rambles about Charles I and asks any nearby female to transcribe his visions about God and...

PORTLAND, OR—Yesterday burnout hippie Abe Sizzlebrook was found dead on the kitchen floor of his apartment with a slimy brown-orange kombucha monster attached to his face, like something straight out of a B-grade movie. Sizzlebrook’s friends tell us that he had been making an enormous vat of kombucha in order to share it with other volunteers at his local organic farm, so no one could have expected that it would be the death of him. Indeed, unbeknownst to anyone, the culture at the bottom of the mixture became so prominent...

For Gulliver Granola, wearing Crocs is not just a fashion statement, but a way of life—I mean that literally, since he’s been eating only Croc soup for the past couple days. Insisting that I call him “Gull, just like the bird, bro,” the haggard man I see before me seems but a ghost of the zealous Croc champion my boss at The Flail had described to me. Later, I gathered (from the internet) that the bird he was referring to was in fact a “seagull.” Clever man. Surprised that no...