By Marcellus Day, Stentorian Staff Writer
As a journalist and scientific mind, it is my job to question that which no one has and adventure into the mundane. I was taking my daily stroll down to Hunt Kitchen to feed Sam, the Sink Sea-Creature, as no one has been shoving food down the sink for him to eat (or so he tells me), and stopped to remark upon the unremarkable, or so it seemed.
An unassuming door labeled “Restricted Area: To protect people and equipment use of this space requires permission of Engineering Faculty.” Now this got me thinking, what does the school have to hide from us? I had to drop this thought as I heard the yelp of a student who Sam had eaten. Sea creatures can be so melodramatic sometimes.
Later that night I was sitting in one of the Hunt couches trying to unpack why Chris crossed Applesauce and what could be done to repair the friendship, when I saw two zebra-striped jacket-wearing cloaked figures enter the restricted area with a suspicious box. I watched them closely, and they left with no box.
Unbeknownst to these figures, a thin, strong yellow strand, of what seemed like hay, fell out of their sleeves when they went to lock the door. I picked it up and ran to my room to add it to my “Is J-Todd A Lizard” board. Chris then called me to remind me about my mission. I thanked him and quickly made a “Is the Restricted Hunt Room a Cult Meeting Place?” board.
I had the evidence, but I needed a plan of attack. Then I remembered something: the figures were wearing zebra-print jackets for the Zebracorns, one of the school robotics teams! All I had to do was pretend to be a part of the team, and BOOM–I would be in.
The plan worked like a charm; all I had to say was that I was an important robotics person, and suddenly they all wanted my secret knowledge. Which, of course, I would have to give them in secret.
They led me inside the room, and a foul stench hit my nose: horse manure. Upon them leading me further inside, I was horrified but impressed. There were at least 100 zebras all in their own pens. Mysterious cloaked figures were feeding them and brushing their hair.
I quickly remarked on how that is a lot of zebras for a high school robotics team, to which they replied in the most nonchalant way that they skin them for their uniforms. Like an upstanding civilian, I whipped my phone out of my pocket to call PETA, but just as I did, Chris called me first!
My cover was immediately blown, and I had to sprint to safety. Unfortunately, the only place I could think of was under the sink with Sam. If you see this, save me first then save the zebras.