Something important snapped in the mind of Logan Jeffords (COL ‘22) today when his walk through Healy Lawn in between classes was rudely interrupted by the sight of three freshmen happily throwing a frisbee between themselves in the warm sunlight of spring. 

Jeffords stopped in his tracks, his eyes lowering into a Kubrick stare. “They mock me,” he thought to himself. “Look how they frolic, in full knowledge that I am incapable of such joy! They mock me!”

His vision blurred. His mind remained clouded by the knowledge of his upcoming midterms, and thus he was unable to feel joy at the sensation of warm sunlight on his skin and a gentle breeze in the air. The sight of such joy as was obvious in the frisbee throwers, a joy so inaccessible to him, forced him onto the heights of despair. His jaw hung askew, his eyes unfocused. People were streaming around him on the way to class. 

Suddenly, he locked eyes with a squirrel on the ground near him. The squirrel looked at him with eyes that betrayed intelligence. To Jeffords’ surprise, the squirrel opened its mouth.

“Kill them all, Logan. Kill them all! Kill them all!”

An unfamiliar, insane glint entered Jeffords’ eye. He stumbled forward. They mock me. They mock me. They mock me. 

Suddenly, an errant frisbee hit him on the head, knocking him back into his senses. After regaining his senses, he went on with his day, looking just the same as you and me. But be warned, Georgetown – somewhere, someone on campus has a screw loose, and every time you toss the pigskin around on Healy Lawn in the golden sunlight, you bring us one step close to disaster.