Note: This article is satirical.
It’s natural to feel anxiety over graduating, and so it should come as no surprise that we here at The Hall Monitor-Herald were shocked when we realized graduation was fast approaching. How were were going to cram four years of college into two weeks?
After we woke from a six-day bender, we quickly brushed ourselves off and completed the remaining 119 credits in our biochemical engineering degree within a time span of six days.
Longtime readers will know that whether we’re reporting the news, manning Horsetooth Lighthouse or placing Embalmed Man Potter in a burning building with a chain around his neck reading, “HMH STAFF” in a complicated insurance scheme, we are nothing if not meticulously organized. And so it was with horror that we realized there was nothing planned for us after graduation.
Luckily, our favorite professor had a post-graduation syllabus for us. The word “DEATH” was written at the bottom of the page, with only question marks above it.
“What are all these questions marks?” we pleaded, but Professor Thompson just giggled that sexy giggle of his before foaming at the mouth and dying of rabies.
Tragically, he never had time to appreciate the raccoon we had hidden in his pillow case.
After looting his body for candy wrappers and strangling the raccoon to make it stop biting everything, we thought long and hard about what the question marks would be in the syllabus of our lives. As repeatedly proven to us in personally demeaning rejection letters from the Paris Review, The Hall Monitor-Herald has no business existing outside of CSU. And if we we’re graduating CSU, who would we even be if not “The Hall Monitor-Herald?”
We’d done a lot these past four years: we’d covered hard-hitting news, received upwards of seven Twitter followers, and were deemed “personally responsible” by the Coloradoan for a record-high number of shipwrecks in Horsetooth Reservoir between 2012-2015. Ultimately, we’d accomplished more than we ever thought possible.
We have done so much in fact, that there is nothing left for us on this earth. So we gave away our prized possessions: six musty lemons, the Necronomicon and our beloved colleague, Montana Jones. We even wrote a will, but we were unfortunately forced to eat it, seeing as how we had given away the lemons.
Indeed, we were not only graduating CSU, but also, it would seem, planet Earth.
Tony Frank always told us that we would leave this planet in either a body bag or a rocket ship, and god bless us, we’re doing both. Our buddy Steve zipped us up and strapped us to a rocket ship. With our destination set for “the sun” we are content with the knowledge first, that we will always be warm, and second, that we will continue publishing a weekly, space-themed newsletter: The Space Monitor-Spaceship.
Tony, wherever you are, we hope we made you proud.
The Space Monitor-Spaceship is written by Lauren Funai, Niles Hachmeister, Chris Vanjonack and Andrew Walker.